Page 31 of Resist

“Why don’t you stay here a few days?” he offered.

Ainsley was shaking her head before he finished issuing the invitation. “Can’t. Need to go home and check on Mick. Then I have to head over to the tavern to put the furniture back in place before I open.”

“You’re opening the tavern?” He’d hoped after last night’s events she’d take at least a few nights off.

“Of course.”

“Take a few days off,” he insisted. “You’re still healing.”

Ainsley dismissed the idea out of hand. “That’s not an option.”

“What if those guys come back?”

She shrugged as if it wasn’t a real concern, something that chafed. Didn’t she have an ounce of self-preservation?

“Ainsley. Last night?—”

“I don’t want to talk about last night. It’s water under the bridge.”

Coulton scowled. “Like hell it is. You can’t bury your head in the sand on this. Those men were going to hurt you. They were going to?—”

Ainsley stood up abruptly, the stool squeaking loudly across the floor. “Look, Coulton. I appreciate what you did for me, but that doesn’t make you my keeper. You have zero say-so in my life.”

“I didn’t say I did, but?—”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” he argued, even though he couldn’t shake the image of her last night. She was fighting for her life, and it still wasn’t going to be enough. “It’s just?—”

“I have my bat,” she interjected. “And Maren is working today.”

He scoffed. A lot of fucking good that bat did for her last night. He started to say just that, but she kept talking.

“Coulton, I don’t have the luxury of not working. I need the money the tavern brings in to pay for my dad’s medical bills, plus rent and groceries and the mortgage on Mick’s, and so on and so on.”

“It’s not safe.”

She plucked at the hem of his shirt, clearly ready to be anywhere but here. “It’s where I live.”

It was a shitty answer, but an honest one. He viewed Cherry Hill with an outsider’s perspective, as someone who’d never lived in a truly dangerous place. Ainsley, however, had spent her life in that neighborhood, so she had adapted to her environment and found ways to survive.

While he might understand that, he didn’t like it. At all.

Ainsley drank the last sip of her coffee. “I really do need to go.”

“Just close the tavern tonight,” he pressed, hating the fact that he had to work and couldn’t protect her. “I’ll get you a ticket to the game.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Coulton.”

He rose, fighting desperately for something that might change her mind, his heart thudding in panic.

“Thanks for last night,” she said, grabbing her phone, then looking down at herself. “I’ll return the shirt.”

He shook his head. “Keep it.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. Thanks.”

She left the kitchen, Coulton following in her wake as she made her way to the front door. He was overwhelmed by the desire to block the exit, because her returning to work bothered him more than he cared to admit.

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