Page 84 of My Secret to Protect

‘IlovethatIget to do this with you,’ Arlo breathes his words against my neck as his body covers mine, and I wrap my arms around his back.

We’re making out, kissing, touching, giving ourselves the freedom to take the time exploring each other’s body, and making up for so many lost years.

‘Baby,’ I sigh as his kisses flutter across my collarbone and start to move lower, and then we hear it.

A crash of glass and furniture from downstairs has us both alert, frozen, and wide-eyed.

‘Arlo.’ I need him to move so that I can get up, and he does, reaching for the door in nothing more than his boxers as I pull my gun from the side table drawer.

‘Stay here,’ he snaps as another loud crash comes from downstairs, accompanied by Beans furiously barking.

‘No, not happening.’ I pull on his t-shirt and try to follow when the look in his eyes makes me freeze. He looks terrifying. His eyes are cold and full of rage.

‘Bree,’ his voice is firm as he makes himself larger, and I take a step back as he reaches out and takes the weapon from my hand.

I exhale, terrified and resigned, as Arlo opens the door and heads out, closing it behind him, and I cover my mouth, refusing to cry as I swallow down the lump caught in my throat.

Shaking my head, I move over to my closet and pull out some sweatpants, dressing and shoving my feet into my running sneakers before stepping up onto the step stool to pull out another gun from the top shelf. Another loud crash, followed by the sound of shouting, has my heart racing, and I fight the urge to panic as I check the gun is loaded and head to the door. He told me to stay, but I don’t give a damn. I’m trained for this, for exactly this, and now I’m armed with more than a gun and my training. I have my love for that man and our dog spurring me on.

Pulling open the door, I lead with my weapon, treading carefully, slowly, wanting to make only the right moves. Heading down the stairs, I still when silence descends.

I reach the living room and take in the devastation. The place is trashed, the sofa shredded, the TV torn from the wall and smashed, broken glasses and crockery litter the floor, and I can’t fathom how this all happened so fast.

Beans starts in my direction, then lifts his paw, and I realize he’s hurt. Glass is probably in there, and I itch to fix it for him, but I need to get to Arlo first.

‘Beans, bed,’ I say firmly, sending him limping away so he doesn’t stand on any more of the glass as I turn to see the front door open and make my way out.

Sucking in a shocked breath as I step out onto the porch, my hands come up to cover my mouth. There on the porch are the flowers from the trash, the torn card taped together and laid on the wooden deck, and on the lawn, Arlo’s motorcycle is burning.

Arlo watches the flames engulf his bike in silence, and I try to steady my breath, then turn back to the house to grab the fire extinguisher from the kitchen.

I storm out onto the lawn, ignoring Arlo’s protests, and start to put out the fire. Arlo grabs another extinguisher from his truck and joins me, and I start to cry. Fat tears pour from my eyes, and as the flames die down, I drop to my knees.

‘Bree, everything okay?’ my neighbor, Artie, stands on his porch, shotgun in his hands, and I hold up my hand and steady my emotions.

‘Under control now, Artie.’

Under control, my ass. How the fuck do I even begin to explain any of this? The house is fucked. Beans has paws full of glass. Arlo’s bike is a burned-out wreck.

Artie takes my word for it and heads back inside, and I glance around to see if anyone else has come outside, but the quiet of the night has once more descended as if nothing happened.

‘Inside, Bree.’ Finally, Arlo speaks, but his voice is full of rage. Without argument, I turn back to the house.

Once we’re inside, Arlo pushes the door shut and takes in the devastation as I head over to Beans, and he gives me his paw willingly, knowing he needs my help. I can’t stop the tears that pour out of me as I pull out the large shard of glass and inspect him for more.

He got hurt. Arlo’s things got trashed—because of me.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say as I stand, and Arlo’s furious gaze meets mine. Then he storms toward me, the crunch of glass under his unlaced boots loud in the silence until he pulls me into his chest and wraps me up in his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head.

‘No, Bree. This isn’t on you, not one fucking bit of this is on you.’ He presses a kiss to the top of my head. ‘Pack a bag. We can’t stay here.’

‘Arlo, what a…’

‘Pack, Bree,’ he snaps, then storms away, back outside, and I do as he said.

Me: Jen, I need you to do me a favor and secure Arlo’s place. Please don’t ask any questions of me or anyone else because I can’t give you answers right now, so I’m asking as a friend. Please lock it down. We’re heading out of town for a couple of days.

Isentthetextas Arlo drove us away from Forest Falls in the early hours of the morning, knowing that Jenna would go into a tailspin once she read it but also knowing I could trust her. She would have been called once the neighbors saw the state of the house in the morning anyway. Better I call her in myself.

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