That’s all I hear before Grant crosses to where Brian, a man I realize I know, and a slightly older-looking short blond deputy are holding Andrew. He gets right in Andrew’s face and speaks so quietly, I’d miss what he says if I weren’t straining to hear it.
“This can’t get much worse for you, but I promise you that if you threaten her in any way, it will. Is that clear?”
Andrew rears back and starts to spit something back at Grant. “I?—”
Grant shakes his head. “No. You have nothing else to say here. You do Mirandas?”
Brian and the woman confirm, then lead Andrew away.
“They’ll need photos and anything else that might be helpful. We’ve got to take your statement, too. Why don’t you pack a bag and get Mr. Bingley’s carrier and stay with us tonight, if you’re comfortable with that?”
“Yes. Please.” I am so comfortable and relieved by the idea ofnotstaying in this space, I could cry. In fact, I do let a few tears loose as I come down from the intense stressresponse of being locked in my apartment with my abusive ex for a half hour.
Can that really be all it was?It feels like I just spent a week pressed up against the wall farthest away from wherever he was in my place.
We spend a solid ten minutes coaxing Mr. Bingley, who has vanished under the bed again, into his carrier. I pile some things into a bag and grab my computer as though I’ll actually do homework tonight and not request another couch-rot movie night with Grant and the girls as my consolation for this garbage encounter with Andrew, and then we leave.
I’m regretful, almost guilty, leaving the space as messy as it is, but Grant promises it’s good and we pass a guy with a camera on the way back up who’s presumably going to take photos for evidence. I know in my head this is right.
Later, after talking through what happened and giving my formal statement to Deputy Angie, who seems happy to meet me and like she’s heard about me, I feel like I’m coming out of a memory, not something real.
“Let’s get you home.” Grant brings my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it as we walk across the driveway toward his front porch.
And when we step inside and he sets my things down, sliding Mr. Bingley’s carrier into the living room, he wraps me up in his strong arms, and I cry.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Grant
My parents are the first to arrive. Ma comes in fussing, holding tight to Sam when they hug, and drawing back with tears in her eyes. Even my dad seems shaken and eager to assure himself she’s okay.
Finn barges in, sets a box and grocery bag on the counter, and immediately sweeps Sam into a hug right when my dad releases her.
“Maybe let’s give her some space, guys.” I may be scowling, but I appreciate them being here. That said, I don’t want her feeling overwhelmed after an already exhausting afternoon.
“It’s okay.” She catches my eye and sends me a soft smile.
My heart squeezes. I swear, this woman could probably cause my heart to explode, especially if paired with the girls.
“I’m sorry this happened. I’d like to meet him and sharea few thoughts and feelings with that asshole.” Finn’s tone is chipper, but there’s an undercurrent of determination that sends a red flag.
Before I caution him against going to the station to track down Sam’s ex, she’s already disarming him. “That’s sweet of you. But I vote we all stay well clear of him. He’s created a pretty big problem for himself between completely violating the protective order and entering my home uninvited.”
Finn sighs. “Fair. I’ll let the law enforcement types handle it.”
In the next few minutes, Eirinn and Dec both arrive. Eirinn doesn’t go in for a hug, but she pats Sam’s arm and speaks in low tones. I read Sam’s expression, knowing Eirinn won’t say anything harmful. She’s probably the smartest among us, and her emotional intelligence is extremely high. When I see Sam’s eyes mist over, I banish the plan to give her space and let my family take turns with her.
The minute I’m next to her, she reaches for me like I do her. My hand slides around her waist and she’s got hers around me, holding on.
She’s so strong, and even now, she’s giving me a gift. She’s letting me hold and comfort her. I won’t be surprised if she knows I need it.
Dec asks about injuries, nodding patiently as she explains the idiot didn’t touch her. Then he hands her a card. “I’m glad you’re not physically harmed. This card is for a friend of mine, Dr. Ruiz. She’s excellent, and if you need anything on the mental health side of things, it’s worth a quick chat with her to see if she can help.”
It’s more words than he’d typically use, but he’s this way with patients—with anyone who needs help. He’ll softenwording, explain with his patent clarity and calm, and he won’t shy away from addressing the whole human. Even though he wasn’t here when I got back to Juniper View, he’s ultimately the person who talked me into therapy.
“Thank you. I’ll call her.”
There’s noise out front that can only come from two particular little people. The door bursts open and the sound of an elephant herd barrels toward us, right into Sam’s arms. She’s instantly enveloped in their energy, and because she crouched to receive their hugs, they bowl her over onto her back, then pin her down with a nonstop barrage of pats and hugs and chatter.
