Page 3 of I'll Keep Her Safe

Bailey’s brows pinch in concern. “I don’t want you to move in with some random off Craigslist.”

I lift a shoulder, pretending it’s no big deal. “That’s what everyone else does.”

Bailey shakes her head. “I’d offer for you to keep the apartment for a while, but Dean’s already found someone to sublet. He was worried if we didn’t…”

“It’s okay, I understand. I’ll find somewhere.” What Idon’tsay is that I could never in a million years afford to stay there, even if I wanted to.

“And I don’t know if you should be there alone,” she adds, a shadow crossing her face.

I give what I hope passes for a playful roll of my eyes. “Kurt hasn’t showed up for months. I’m pretty sure he’s over it.”

She frowns, opening her mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it. Bailey and Dean have had my back over the past year while my ex dealt with our breakup in his own unique way. Lately, though, he seems to have calmed down, and I could not be more relieved.

Silence falls over us as Bailey sucks on the straw of her iced coffee, her gaze trained on the street outside. I sip my luke-warm water, the reality of the situation hitting me. I have three days to find a new place to live, or… I don’t know what.

Shit.

Anxiety needles my chest as I consider my options. I can’t even move home, because my parents sold their house to travel through Europe the minute I left for college. They’ve always been more interested in themselves than me, so I’m fairly certain I haven’t been missed. Besides, I’m from a tiny town in Indiana, and I cannot describe the triumph I felt at leaving that place when I finished high school. Of course, I wish I hadn’t done it withKurt, but I can’t change the past. The point is, I love living in the city. Even if Icouldmove back home, I wouldn’t want to. Giving up New York would be like giving up completely.

And there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.

“I guess I should say congratulations.” I coax a smile onto my lips, trying my best to tamp down the panic rising inside me. This isn’t about me—it’s about my friend and her exciting news.

Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a little blindsided. We were going to work together to grow this business, and I hadn’t planned on moving outquiteso abruptly. Even with my best efforts to remain calm, my chest grows tight and hot. It feels like I can’t keep my head above the water anymore. The waves are coming faster, I’m floundering, and I don’t know which way is up.

“We’ve got three days,” Bailey assures me. It must be obvious I’m spiraling, because she puts an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into her side with a wry smile. “I’m not going to leave you homeless. You wouldn’t last five minutes on the street.”

Despite everything, a laugh seeps from me. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, inhaling deeply to pull myself together. “We should be celebrating your big news.”

“We will. But first we need to figure this out.”

I look gratefully at my friend. You know what? She’s right. Stroking a finger across the lotus tattoo on the inside of my left wrist, I remind myself of what I’ve been through over the past year—of all the strength it has given me. I refuse to let this defeat me. Iwillfigure this out.

I have to.

2

Wyatt

All I can think about, as I pack up at the end of another scorching summer day, is rhubarb.

I drain my water bottle, double checking how much soil we have on the way out of the job site. We’ll need more delivered tomorrow if we’re going to have the job finished on time, and I make a mental note to put in an order tonight.

“Later, boss,” Shawn says as he passes. His deep brown skin glistens with sweat, and he wipes the back of his arm across his forehead as he turns down the street, a few of the other guys joining him.

At this time of day, most of the crew heads to Richie’s, a dive bar they frequent in Gowanus, Brooklyn, where the beer is cheap and the air conditioning is strong after a day in the oppressive New York heat. I could join them, but I rarely fraternize with the crew outside of work hours. As the owner of Mathers Landscaping, it’s important to keep a little professional distance.

Besides, I need to get home and check on my rhubarb.

“Later, guys.” I turn for my pickup truck, eager to get back to my place in Brooklyn Heights.

It’s been a long day working on a yard in Park Slope, and I have three other projects on the go. Summer is my busy season, and I always have to hire a few extra hands to keep up with the work. It’s essential to make the most of it because the majority of my work grinds to a halt come winter. I don’t mind the seasonal nature of the work, though. It’s nice to have downtime between the hustle.

I blast the air conditioning on the drive home, my body heavy and spent after a day of manual labor in the sweltering sun. It’s the kind of ache that feels good, that you know means you’ll sleep well. Usually, I’d swing by and check on progress at the other sites, but I decide it can wait until tomorrow. I want to pop into my local community garden and see if the rhubarb is ready to harvest.

As I turn down Atlantic Avenue, my eyes catch on the tattoos across my knuckles gripping the wheel. The black ink on the back of my left hand is an intricate rose, both my mom’s name and her favorite flower, with the wordLOVEin script across my knuckles. On my right is a compass, my knuckles inscribed with the wordLIVE. I got both when I was twenty, to complete sleeves on both arms, which I’d started at nineteen. An attempt to define myself at a time when I had no idea who I was or what kind of mark I would make on the world.

Little did I know, I had a daughter taking her first breath on the other side of the city. I would have had her name tattooed on my hand if I’d been given the chance. I had to settle for getting it engraved on my chest, instead, over a decade later.

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