I shift with a groan and lift my phone to my ear, pressing the screen to dial.
It feels like it rings forever.
“Hello?” Sydney says when she finally answers. “Seb?”
Hearing her voice is like a cold knife straight through me. I close my eyes, savoring the pain.
Fuck, I love the way she says my name.
“The restraining order was finalized today,” I tell her, keeping my tone neutral. Calm. “I left all the documentation on your doorstep. It’s signed already. This is just for your records.”
Because I promised you I would.
Because I’d do anything for you.
“Oh!” She sounds surprised. “I, uh… I didn’t even hear you. You could have knocked.”
I hear her make her way through her living room and to the door. She opens it, stooping down to gather the packet I left for her.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I tell her.
After she closes and locks her door, she makes her way back to the bedroom, setting the packet down on her bed. I watch as she stares down at it, biting her nails. I have to swallow my knee-jerk reaction to tell her to stop.
I hate Alec for making me do this, almost as much as I love him for it. BecausefuckI’ve been wanting an excuse, any excuse, to see her. To watch her.
Ashton was right. I’m not dating her. I’m not someone she chose, not the prince charming type like him and Alec. I’m just someone who got her off.
Once.
I have no claim to her at all. I only have this—watching her from a distance, when she doesn’t even know I’m here. I let my head fall back until the back of my skull hits the tree behind me. Fuck, I’m pathetic.
“Look, at the end of the day, that restraining order is just a piece of paper,” I explain. “It doesn’t offer much in the way of real protection.”
She chews her nails a little harder, face pinched with worry.
“I think you need some extra security, Sydney,” I say, finally cutting to the chase.
“You might be right.” She hesitates before continuing. “Jade wanted me to move in with her for a while. She’s really worried. I think we’d both feel better if things were a bit more…secure.”
“Are you considering it?” I ask, brushing a speck of dirt off my pants.
“Considering what?”
“Moving in with her?” It would make my job harder. So much harder.
After a moment, Sydney shakes her head. “No,” she says into the phone. “There’s no room, anyway.”
Good. “If you’re staying, we should really get you more security. For the shop and, uh…your apartment.”
Sydney visibly tenses. “What exactly would that look like?” she asks, in a hard voice. “The security, I mean. In my apartment.”
“No cameras,” I insist. “Not in your home, not unless you want them. I’d like some for your store, and some basic security upgrades. An alarm package, better locks, maybe a gate for your front stairs.”
At least she seems to be considering it.
“No camera in my room?” she presses. “You’re not planning on spying on me, right?”
I deserve the skepticism I see on her face.
