“No matter what happens from this moment on, you have me, okay? I’m here.”
I don’t have to look into his eyes to know he’s telling the truth. He means every word, and because of that, I can breathe a little easier.
We make it out of the driveway, but when we approach the guard station, my plan falls apart. “Shit, I didn’t think about you driving. What about security?”
“It’s okay, I’ll handle it.”
“What? How?”
Benson ignores my question as we approach the guard shack. He pulls to a stop, then puts the car in park and opens the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-hiss.
The guard walks out, but there is no time for him to react because Benson throws a punch to his jaw, knocking him to the ground. He drags him back into the guard shack and secures his hands behind his back, using the guard’s handcuffs beforepressing the button to open the gate.
He folds back into the car, and I gape at him. “Seriously?”
“What, you didn’t want me to kill him, did you?” he asks with a grin.
An incredulous laugh escapes me. “Well, no, but I thought you’d use a little more discretion and tact?”
“No time,” he says, throwing the car in drive and gunning the gas. “I don’t think it’s safe at my place or yours.”
He’s right.
Not after the phone call we overheard earlier, and no doubt the security guard will rat me out as soon as he’s able.
He grips the steering wheel tight, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “I think we should go to the cabin.”
I freeze. “The cabin?”
“No one knows about it but my family. We’ll be safe there.”
The thought of going back to that sacred place offers a sense of comfort I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m just shocked that he’d want to go back there.
With me.
“Okay,” I reply, unsure of what else to say.
He reaches over to thread his fingers with mine, bringing the back of my hand to warm lips.
We drove straight to the cabin, arriving just after midnight. A wave of memories assaults me as I walk inside. Nothing has changed. It still all looks and smells the same. My tense muscles instantly relax as Benson flips on several more lights.
The open floor plan features a sunken living room with a worn leather sofa and two recliners, along with a massive TV mounted above the fireplace. Not that Benson watches much TV, but he’s a huge college football fan. Something I learned years ago in our time together. The kitchen is well-equipped with everything you need to make a home-cooked meal, and while the space is sparsely decorated, it’s the only place that’s ever truly felt like home.
“I’ll have it warmed up soon,” Benson says, bringing in an armful of wood from the porch.
I make myself useful and help him bring in two more armfuls while he gets the fire going. It doesn’t take long before I’m shedding my jacket. Standing in front of the hearth, I watch the flames as they flicker and lick the wood, my mind warring with itself. Growing up, I always felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong.
A sudden wave of exhaustion slams into me when I feel Benson pressing in behind me, his large hands resting on my hips as he dips his head.
“Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. Eating is the last thing on my mind. I’m dying to know what’s in that envelope, but terrified at the same time. No matter what it contains, my life will change forever. Of that, I am certain.
I spin to face him, our gazes colliding for a moment before he leans down and presses a tender kiss to my lips. “I want you to go and take a long, hot shower while I make us something to eat.”
“But I—”
