Page 26 of I'll Keep Her Safe

“I won’t go back today.” He doesn’t say why, but I get the sense it’s to be here, in case… I don’t know, but I’m grateful.

“Well, I got all the way to my job in Sugar Hill this morning, only for my manager to tell me I no longer had a job. They’ve cut all my shifts.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. But then…” I chuckle at the synchronicity of this. “I ran into this barista at Joe’s, and she offered me a job there.”

Mr. Mathers’s eyebrows spring up. “That’s great! You couldn’t ask for a shorter commute.”

“True,” I agree, a warm sensation bubbling through me at his enthusiastic response. This morning has been such a roller coaster, but as I sit on the couch, chatting amiably with Mr. Mathers, I can’t help but smile. I’ve got a new job, and he’s made it clear he wants me to stay. More important than any of that is the knowledge that Kurt can’t hurt me, not as long as I’m here.

And for the first time in over a week, I relax.

11

Wyatt

“Boss, we have a problem.”

I glance up from where I’m laying a stone border around a bed of peonies, my gaze finding Shawn across the Park Slope yard we’re working in today. We’re behind schedule after I took yesterday afternoon off, but there was no way I was going to leave Poppy alone when her ex had just left. I still can’t believe he blatantly lied about being her boyfriend to get inside the house. Thinking of that smug prick’s face makes my blood boil, especially now that I know everything he did to her. And, God, when she broke down on the sofa… I shouldn’t have touched her, let alone held her, but it was instinctual. I’d comfort any woman in distress, hold any woman close like that if she was upset.

At least, that’s what I tell myself. And that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself now that she’s staying. I know it wasn’t a good idea to ask her to stay, but I couldn’t stand the thought of Kurt finding her again. Who knows what he’d do to her with no one around? With me, at least I know she’ll be safe. That’s what Bailey wants, and if I can tell myself I’m doing it for her, then that makes it easier.

But it also means pulling my fucking head in. It means no more noticing Poppy in all the ways I’m not supposed to. No thinking about how warm she felt in my arms, no recalling the sweet, peachy smell of her shampoo, no wondering how soft her mouth would feel against mine.

None of that.

I force my attention to the task at hand. “You’d better not be complaining about lunch again,” I mutter, brushing off my hands as I wander over to Shawn. I swear to God I’ve had enough of the crew moaning about the lack of affordable lunch options around here. Bring something from home, for fuck’s sake.

“Nope,” Shawn says, a frown etched across his brow. Instead of planting out the cherry blossom trees like he’s supposed to, he stands over the hole he’s dug, hands on his hips. When I reach his side, I follow his gaze to find a white kitten quivering in the bottom of the hole, staring up at us with wide blue eyes.

“Well, shoo it back wherever it came from.”

“I don’tknowwhere it came from,” Shawn says. “Look, there’s no collar or anything.”

He’s right. Not only that, the kitten looks like it’s seen better days. Its fur is a little matted on one side, and I can see the bones of its vertebrae.

“Shit.” I scrape a hand across the back of my neck. “It must be a stray.” I glance from the terrified ball of fur to the guys. “Anyone want it?”

“Don’t look at me,” Shawn says. “My landlord will kill me if I take that thing home.” He glances at Diego, who’s sidled over out of interest. “Maybe your kids want a new pet?”

Diego steps back with a shake of his head. “Mywifewill kill me if I take it home. We already have two.”

“What’s going on?” Nikolai, apparently intrigued by the small crowd we’ve formed, wanders over.

“Happy birthday!” Shawn says, motioning to the hole with a grin. “We got you a cat.”

Nikolai’s thick brows draw together. “My birthday’s in January. And I’m allergic to cats.”

“It was worth a shot,” Shawn mutters, throwing his hands up. The kitten utters a plaintive, wretched little mewl.

“There must be a shelter we could drop it at,” Diego says, and I try to hide my grimace at this suggestion. I know what happens at those shelters to animals who don’t get adopted, and it’s not good.

The boys lob suggestions back and forth for a moment until I finally feel their gaze swing my way. On instinct, my hands come up.

“Don’t look at me.”

And yet, somehow, I get railroaded into taking the damn thing home.

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