“Sean,” I murmured.
He didn’t look at me.
“Come here.”
Slowly, he rose from his seat, eyes flicking to mine. When he got close enough, I reached out and gently tugged him into my lap.
He didn’t hesitate.
His arms slipped around my neck, and he leaned in, pressing his face to the curve of my throat. He inhaled, shaky, as if trying to breathe me in.
I held him close, one hand stroking his back, the other resting firmly on his hip. My chest swelled with something primal. Possessive. Fierce.
“You’re safe,” I whispered into his hair. “No one’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m around.”
His breath hitched. His grip tightened. We didn’t speak. There was no need to.
I felt him soften in my arms, the way his heartbeat slowly synced with mine. My bear settled too, soothed by his scent, by the feel of him exactly where he belonged.
Chapter 11
Sean
Seated on Beau’s lap,I had a hard time focusing on anything but him. The solid heat of his body against mine. The steady thrum of his heart under my palm.
The way his hands anchored me, one splayed warm against my lower back, the other steadying me like he knew I needed to feel safe, grounded.
I curled closer without thinking, burrowing against the side of his neck. His scent filled my head: a little like flour, a little like pine, a lot like comfort.
My heart kept thudding too fast, too desperate—but not from fear. From him.
I realized then, truly realized, that I was safe. Safe because he was holding me like I was the most important thing in his world.
Safe because the quiet ferocity in him didn’t scare me. It saved me.
I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep it locked away anymore. He deserved to know what he was protecting.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, not with anger, but something else. Something deep and unmovable.
I swallowed, nerves catching in my throat. But he didn’t rush me. Just kept stroking slow, calming circles along my spine.
“I need to tell you something,” I whispered.
His hands stilled, but he nodded, his gaze locked on mine.
I inhaled shakily. “Back at the culinary school… there was this instructor. Orin. He wasn’t just a bully. One night, I saw him standing over a dead body. A homeless man who snuck into the kitchen looking for food.”
Beau’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.
“I didn’t even think,” I said, voice cracking. “I just ran. I ran, Beau. I didn’t stay to explain or call the police or anything. I panicked. And now... now he’s looking for me. Posting on forums. Offering rewards for ‘information’.”
The words spilled out, messy and tangled, but once they started, I couldn’t stop. Shame burned under my skin. Guilt. Fear.
I waited for Beau to pull away. To tell me I should have done more. Should have fought harder.
Instead, he cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek like I was made of something precious.
“You did the right thing,” he said, voice rough.
