HANNAH
Beau was not therein two minutes.
He was there in one.
He parked his truck on the curb, almost hitting a cruiser while he did so. He didn’t even close the door after he all but leapt out of the cab, jogging past the windows and into the bakery, eyes on me.
His face was carefully blank, but his jaw could’ve been wired shut for how tight it was, and his eyes were pools of fury.
I met him halfway inside the bakery, his hands settling on my hips as he laid a gentle kiss on my head. He inhaled deeply, staying there for three seconds. I counted.
He didn’t speak to me, just looked at Finn, still with a crying Lori.
“She made her statement?” Beau’s voice was foreign sounding. Forced.
Finn nodded. He had a mask of fury not too dissimilar to Beau’s, though he’d gentled his features somewhat to calm Lori.
“We’ll come to the station to press charges.”
There was no question as to whether I would press charges. I’d be happy to. Anything to ensure that this man was locked up and far away from Lori and her baby.
As worry spiked in me for my friend, I reminded myself of the dedication in Finn’s eyes as he looked at her. She was safe.
“I’m taking her home.”
Another nod from Finn.
Beau started to turn then paused. “You’re throwing the book at this guy, right?”
Finn’s posture tightened. From what I knew of the man, he was a straight arrow. Letter of the law type. But I guessed not that straight of an arrow since he issued Calliope a speeding ticket for the first time the other day, and she’d likely been speeding for as long as she’d lived here.
“Oh, I’m gonna find a couple of books,” Finn replied icily.
Beau nodded, keeping a hand on my hip and guiding me out.
“Let’s get you home,” Beau murmured.
And there I was. Safe.
Physically.
But I couldn’t wrench my mind out of the past.
Beau fussed over me for the rest of the afternoon, as did Clara. She’d been with her grandfather when I called Beau, so luckily, I was able to change out of a blood-soaked shirt before she arrived home.
I was worried about her reaction to seeing me. It surely must’ve been traumatic. Clara had never witnessed violence before. Although around for the aftermath when Calliope had almost drowned, had understood that something bad had happened l to her.
Her caretaking side and huge heart took over when she got home, insisting I rest on the sofa, checking on me every fiveminutes. She ordered her father to make hot chocolate with “extra marshmallows” and stayed close to me all night.
“The man who did this, he’s in trouble, right?” she’d asked me before Beau put her to bed.
“Yes, Blueberry, he’s in a lot of trouble,” I replied, glancing at Beau whose jaw was iron as his gaze darted between my bruised face and his concerned daughter.
“Men can’t do that to women without consequences,” Beau said. “And men who do that are not men.”
Clara tugged on her lip, considering this. All too much for a five-year-old brain, but there wasn’t a way around it, really.
“He won’t do it again to Hannah?” she asked Beau. “You’ll protect her, right, Daddy?” She asked with a confidence that only a five-year-old could have in a father who was a superhero in her eyes.
