I pull away after a few seconds. I look over her face carefully before letting her turn to leave, Mocha right on her heels following her up the stairs, where they disappear out of sight.
By the time she comes back downstairs, dinner is almost finished. She looks cute. My hoodie that she’s stolen is probably three sizes too big for her.
I wrap her in a hug. “Do you feel better?” I whisper, resting my chin on top of her head.
“Yeah, a little bit,” she admits.
“That’s good.” She nods wordlessly. I squeeze her extra tight. “You ready for some soup and bread?” I whisper, she nods again, pulling away slightly.
She sits down on one of the stools, and I dish up our food. She takes a small bite as I grab my bowl and sit down next to her.
We eat in silence. I don’t know what to say to fill it. I’m sure she has a hundred thoughts rushing through her head right now. But neither of us speaks until after the food is put away and we’re sitting on the couch with some cocoa, getting ready to watch a movie.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” she whispers. I didn’t realize there was any other place for her to sleep other than next to me.
“Of course you can, you don’t even have to ask, baby. My bedisyour bed.”
“Thank you,” she says, snuggling into my chest.
I tilt her chin up so that she’s forced to look up at me. “I’d do anything for you. You understand that, right?”
She looks at me for a long time, thinking over her answer before she nods. “Yeah, I know.” I press my forehead to hers.
“Good, because I would. You are one of the most important people in my life, and your safety is my number one priority right now.”
“You’re too amazing,” she whispers. I shake my head.
“I’m just giving you what you should have been getting all along,” I say, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
When we pull apart, she rests her head on my chest, turning so that she can see the TV.
I relax, holding her tight while Mocha plops down on the cushion next to us.
It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep. I hold her for a bit longer before slowly maneuvering myself to get up carefully so I can take us upstairs to our room.
She barely even twitches as I lay her down in bed. I pull the blankets over her. I get undressed, take a quick shower before crawling under the covers, pulling her flush against me so that she can stay safe all night long.
32
SLOANE
It’s been four days since the incident in town. I sit in Beckett’s Denver office, curled up on the couch, watchingIce Agesince I’m a literal child, and the only way I am able to regulate my emotions properly is by watching cartoons.
Mocha sits on the floor next to me. Beck sits at his desk just doing whatever it is the detectives do when they aren’t out in the field.
He won’t tell me what he’s working on. He’s encouraged me to stay close to him, which doesn’t make my already paranoid brain feel any better.
He keeps staring at me, and I pretend that I don’t notice. Pretending I’m too engrossed in my show to notice anything else going on around me. It’s quite the opposite, really.
Every little noise makes me flinch; I’m jumpy as hell. Beckett dropped a stapler the other day. The noise made me jump off the couch and run across the room. I apologized about ten times. We went home fourteen minutes later because Beckett felt bad for scaring me.
I’m twenty-one years old, and I shouldn’t be reacting this way. It’s not like anything bad actually happened to me; he’s justa stupid guy who got way too close. Beckett says that my fears are valid, that it’s ok to be scared after something like that.
He doesn’t seem to understand that I now feel like a huge inconvenience. I can’t even stay home by myself. I have to follow him around like a jumpy cat.
He doesn’t seem bothered. He wakes up a few minutes earlier to pack me a lunch and to make me breakfast so that I can sleep in. I’m incredibly grateful, but I feel horrible.
Luckily, nothing on social media has changed, and no one suspects anything since all my regular content is pre-scheduled.
