Page 57 of Unexpected Heroine

His face pinches, and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth grow more pronounced. “I’m sorry, sugar bear.” He cups my upper arms and bends to bring his face in close. “Don’t be frightened. You never have to be scared of me. I’m gonna fix this. I’ll fix everything. I’ll protect you.”

“I’m not scared of you, but I’m terrified of losing you. Whatever you’re talking about could get you hurt or...” My breath hitches, and I continue in a whisper, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, sweet Lettie,” he rasps, his voice pained like his throat is coated in broken glass.

“Just stay with me.”

Unable to beg anymore, I fling my arms around his waist and squeeze him tightly. His returning hold is too forceful, inflaming my ribs. But I don’t fucking care.

I’ve earned the pain.

The seconds pass as I stay safe in his embrace. The things he said keep rattling around my head, and it becomes clear we didn’t solve anything. I bet he still intends to do... well, whatever he was going on about.

I pull out of the hug, keeping only inches between us. After wiping my tears, I steel my spine. “Stay with me. Okay?”

He shakes his head, an air of sorrow surrounding him. “I’ll be back, Lettie. I can’t let them get away with this. They need to pay for what they did to you.”

My hands curve in front of my face. “That’s why I agreed to talk to the cops tomorrow. Detective what’s his face is coming to interview me, right?”

“That’s not the... I mean, it’s not good enough for me. Not anymore. I need to end them.”

Earlier, he said end this.

Now it’s end . . . them.

Extricating myself from his hold, I recoil a few steps away from him. For the first time since he saved me from that hell, I want distance.

It’s jarring, but I let myself have it.

Not too much, though.

Only a few feet.

As he watches me retreat, his mask slips quickly into place, shoring up his emotions. “Talk to me, Lettie.”

He’s flat. Unfeeling.

Once again, he’s merely a husk of the man I love.

Any semblance of my response—be it verbal or non-verbal—is trapped inside me. Restrained. Caged. Bound.

Like a captive.

Just like I was.

Or am I still? Because even if I wanted to leave right now, I couldn’t.

He must misinterpret my silence for acceptance, taking a tentative step toward me. “So you see that I need to do this.”

Holding my palm out, I stop his approach. “That is not what I see.”

Halting his movements, he waits for me to explain. His forehead crumples but the rest of him is as straight as a rod. Planting his fists on his hips, he stares me down.

For a brief moment, he reminds me of Peter Pan.

And if that isn’t the Lettiest thought I’ve ever had, then I’ll be a monkey’s fucking uncle.

Blinking away the cartoon comparison, I eye him more carefully, trying to swim through the sea of confusion that’s quickly pulling me under.

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