Page 58 of My Secret to Protect

That’s all but ruined me, the way they have bonded. He took a liking to her the second he saw her, just like I did all those years ago, but unlike back then, she did not play hard to get with Beans. She plays with him in the yard, feeds him before I get a chance, and fuck me, when they snuggle. I walk in on them, lying on the sofa, napping or watching TV, her arms wrapped around his big, meaty body like he makes her feel safe, and well, it hits. I need to talk to her. I need to know why she fucked me, fucked us the way she did because my resolve is wearing thin, being around her and keeping my wall up is distracting, and I need to have my head firmly in the game right now. I don’t know that her answer will help, but not having it certainly isn’t.

I don’t like this—being up here. I don’t have my door cameras or the security of the front and back yard to give us a cushion before someone can access the property, not to mention that we’re surrounded by forest where anyone could lay in wait, but she needs it.

After circling the whole property, I come back to find her throwing a stick into the water for Beans to retrieve, and I take a deep breath. I need to know, but I don’t feel strong enough to accept whatever her answer will be.

‘Jesus,Beans.’Igroanas we sit out by the fire, Bree in a chair to the side of mine. She laughs a slow, steady, raspy chuckle that I love the sound of more than I can let myself admit.

‘You fed him an entire steak. His gas is on you.’

Turning, I shake my head. She’s right. I know that, but he still fucking stinks. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, this afternoon, being here at the cabin, has been nice. Bree rested, sat in her chair, and read, while I played with Beans and strategically placed someportable security measuresaround the cottage in easy-to-grab places. It’s comforting to know that if it’s Bree who needs to do the grabbing, she knows what she’s doing with a gun, and she can handle herself, but I don’t want her handling anything. She’s exhausted, and tiredness means weakened and sloppy. I need her to rest.

I knew she was tired the first day I laid eyes on her again, but now, she’s pretty much on her ass. I hear her. In addition to checking on the windows and doors at night, she cries, too, and I hate the sound of that, but I don’t intervene. Her emotions are not my business. I’m not here to make her feel good. I’m here to get this prick out of her life so I can get on with mine.

‘You should get some sleep,’ I say, drawing her attention to me, and I feel her glare, so I meet it. ‘What?’

‘It’s not even eight.’

‘But you’re tired.’

She takes a deep inhale and turns her attention back to the water as she blows it out.

‘I’m exhausted.’

Her admission stills me, not her words—she’s said the words before—but it’s her tone and the weakness in her voice.

‘Bree, why don’t you take something to help you sleep?’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can.’

‘No, Arlo. I can’t. I know I need sleep. Believe me, I know. I ache. I’m emotional, and I am not an emotional person. I cry all the fucking time right now and feel nauseous every day. My body feels like it is vibrating, like, I cannot stop shaking most of the time. I have barely any appetite. I've lost weight. I haven’t worked out in weeks because the last time I did, he was there, and if I tried to exert myself right now, I’m pretty sure I would pass out, but the idea of sedating myself and not waking up if he was in my house, not being able to fight him, terrifies me.’

‘I’m here, Bree. I’ll do the fighting.’ She turns and meets my eye, and I see the mixed emotions in her tired caramel eyes. ‘You can’t fight him on no sleep. You can barely think straight. I am here, and I will not let him hurt you, so you are safe to get some rest.’

Turning back to the water, she drops her head back against her chair and inhales deeply.

‘Will you tell me something, something about your life?’ Another deep breath. ‘I just like hearing you talk.’

My lips part, and I raise my bottle again to disguise my surprise at her words.

‘What do you want to know?’

Her head turns slightly, and she shrugs.

‘Anything.’

I think about it for a minute, something about my life—what do I tell her? About prison? About my job or the women, I fuck once, maybe twice, before moving on to someone else. There’s not much in my life worth talking about, except…

‘You want to know why Beans is called Beans?’ I smile, and she matches my expression. ‘Okay then. Mrs. C invited me over for dinner a couple of years ago, and she called because she forgot to buy beans, and she wanted me to stop off at the grocery store and pick some up, so I did.’ I drop my hand onto the massive head resting on my knee and scratch behind his ears, smiling at the memory. ‘When I got there, there was this kid selling puppies from a box, there was just one left, and the kid was crying because his dad threatened to kill it if he took a single one of them home, so I picked it up, the last puppy in the box and fuck, I fell in love.’ I laugh lightly and glance over to see her smile, her eyes closed. ‘So, I bought him for twenty bucks and took him over to Mrs. C’s place, but I forgot the damn beans. When she saw him, she picked him up and said,Are you my beans?While she cradled him like a damn newborn, and that was that: Beans it was.’

Stroking my dog’s head, I watch Bree in the light of the fire, noticing her steady breaths and the peaceful look on her face. She’s asleep, finally, because listening tometalk made her feel safe and calm enough to let go. Swallowing hard, I lean my own head back and look up at the stars.

I’m fucked, because that hatred for her I held onto all these years isn’t hate at all. It doesn’t even come close.

Get It Together, Chief

Bree

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