He’s not acting cool and confident anymore. He’s more like he was when he was tutoring me, nice but awkward. I try not to smile. Bobby’s not insanely beautiful like Eli, or dangerously pretty like Doc. He’s more practical. More American. The kind of guy who sends roses on Valentine’s Day and your family likes—if your family was normal.
“So, I uh…” He gestures to my side table. “Got you some stuff.”
I turn. Beside the lamp is a small bunch of pink flowers in a plastic cup and a thin gold necklace.
“I saw you’ve got that St. Christopher. I thought you might wanna put it on a chain.”
I throw my arms around Bobby’s neck. “Oh my God, thank you, thank you,thank you!”
He makes a strangled sound but his arms close around me. His sweater is cashmere and I rub my face against it, inhaling his sweet, wood smoke scent. Bobby’s so strong, he’s so—
Cold expands in my core as I remember him approaching Kurt, his face steady and sure. The man holding me raised the gun that killed my bodyguard. I saw it. Saw Kurt lying on the ground, gaping red where his face used to be.
I push myself away. “I… um…”
Bobby’s jaw sets, his brown eyes fixing on me. “Give me your St. Christopher. I’ll put it on the chain.”
I open my fist and stare at the little gold circle. A part of me wants to give it to him, but a much bigger part of me wishes he hadn’t killed Kurt. As lovely as it would be to wear the medallion around my neck, I can’t have Zia Theresa’s precious St. Christopher attached to something so compromised.
“Or not,” Bobby says, his face bright red.
“I’m sorry Bobby, I just—wait, what are you doing?”
He drops to one knee in front of me. “January, I need to say something. I want you out of this basement. I want you safe and happy again.”
There’s a throb in his voice, as though my pain has been hurting him too.
“Can I talk to my Zia Teresa or my mom?”
“Not yet. But we can make other arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?”
He reaches out a hand to mine. Sparks tingle up my arm and as much as I want to pull away, I don’t.
“JJ.” His soulful brown eyes lock on mine. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”
My heart slams against my chest. “But I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t know what seven times nine is.”
“That doesn’t matter. I waited my whole life to find someone like you.”
My head is pounding. I want so much to ask what he means if he’s saying what I think he is, but this isn’t the Trinity Grammar library. And in a corner of my mind, Kurt is begging for his life as Bobby walks toward him, holding Eli’s gun.
I imagine Zia Teresa smoking under the rangehood of my stepmom’s oven.Wake up,bella.You’re being lied to again.
I look down at my clean, tight shorts. “Did you make it so I could go upstairs and wash and eat?”
“I… yeah.”
“How come you didn’t take me yourself? You got Mr. Gretzky to do it?”
I try to sound sweet, non-threatening, but Bobby’s eyes narrow. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”
“Of course not,” I say. But I know he is. He wanted me to be clean and comfortable, but he didn’t want to bag my head and steer me around Velvet House like a crash test dummy. He still wants me to see him as a sweet, gentle guy. My math tutor. My high school crush. The thought is more painful than Eli’s threats, Adriano’s gun in my mouth, Doc’s knife against my neck.
“January? What’s wrong?”
I pick up my pillow and hug it to my chest. “Um, like, everything?”
