Page 124 of The Bodyguard Situation

I don’t know how long we sit on the floor, holding each other tight. Time doesn’t exist as I replay everything that’s happened over the past two and a half months. I’m not the same woman I was; I can never be her again. I feel as if I’ve transformed, been burned completely to ash.

“Let’s get off the floor,” she says, her voice soft.

We move to the couch. I feel numb but calm as I cry. This time, I’m not mourning a life I thought I lost; I’m celebrating a miracle that Brody is still alive and that Asher and Nick are okay. The silence feels too loud as I sort through memories. Neither of us has words as we stare at the flames in the fireplace, licking up the sides.

Billie’s phone lights up with a ton of text messages, and then a call comes through. She squeezes my hand as she talks to Asher, and I see the relief wash over her face, along with the love in her eyes. The call ends.

“They’re fifteen minutes away.”

I nod, glancing down at the time on my phone. “You should go meet him.”

“Yes,” she says, and I can see how emotionally drained she is. Billie grabs my hands. “I’m so sorry, Harp. I’m so sorry. Sometimes, I think that maybe had I done something differently, Micah wouldn’t have targeted us.”

She wraps me in a tight hug, and I shake my head.

“Hey. I hate that any of this happened, but without Micah, as much as I want him to burn in hell, I don’t know if Brody and I would be where we are. I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for you and your friendship and the fact that you didn’t give up on me when I was too blinded by his charm to see the reality of my own horrible situation. Without you, I don’t know if I’d be breathing right now. I owe so much to you.”

We hold each other for a moment longer, and then we break apart, and she stands. I walk her to the elevator, my movements feeling too mechanical.

“Can we get together soon?” I ask, just wanting to hang out with my best friend.

“Yes,” she confirms with a nod.

I give her a smile as the doors slide closed, then return to my penthouse. It’s too quiet, too big, too empty. I miss the cozy feel of the cabin and how I felt safe and secure in that small space. I try to quiet my thoughts as I wait for Brody and light a candle. I even walk out onto my balcony and inhale the cool night air. The city hums with the hustle and bustle I’m so accustomed to, but I feel indifferent, being here, and for the first time, I understand why my brother escaped to Cozy Creek.

My body is still running on adrenaline and dread, caught between the moment I thought I’d lost Brody and the moment I heard his voice. I’m curled on the couch, knees to my chest, eyes fixed on the door like I can call him into existence. I wish I could snap my fingers and he’d magically appear. I replay everything—that crushing pressure in my chest, the ringing in my ears, the images of us.

Then I hear the elevator and the muted knock against my door. I stand before I can think, my bare feet slap across the floor, and my hand fumbles with the lock. When I open the door, I’m overwhelmed when I see him standing in front of me with messy hair.

He’s backlit by light, his shoulders wide and solid, but his posture is just slightly off—like he’s holding pain somewhere in his ribs and won’t let it show. His jaw is bruised. His lip is cracked. There’s dried blood on his shirt, and his eyes are wild.

Brody looks wrecked and relieved. The second he sees me, it’s like the last thread that was holding him upright finally snaps.

He exhales, and it sounds like it’s been trapped in his chest for hours. I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight, never wanting to let him go, never wanting to feel that way ever again. I sob in his arms, happy that he’s here, that he’s safe, that he’s breathing.

“Harp, I love you.”

“I love you so much,” I cry out.

He pulls me inside with him, arm wrapped over my shoulders. I hold him tight, both hands needing to confirm he’s really here and I’m not dreaming.

He catches me in his arms and pulls me into him without hesitation. My fingers curl into the back of his shirt, holding on to him with everything I have. My body shakes, and I don’t even try to hide it. He smells like sweat and salt and something raw beneath the surface, like he just came through a storm and hasn’t quite shaken the wind off yet.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I thought …” I can’t finish. I press my forehead to his chest instead, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat.

His arms tighten around me, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough and full of guilt. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. It will never happen again.”

I pull away from him and look up into his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m retiring. I’m done,” he says. “I can’t lose you, lose this life we have. It’s not worth it to me. Before, I didn’t have a reason to live. Sacrificing myself to protect the people I loved the most felt right. But now, the only person I want to protect is you and the life I dream of having with you. I’m fucking done, Harp. I never want to put you through that again. I won’t. That was my last mission.”

“You’re serious?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, and I feel it in the way he holds me—like he needs me to survive this moment too. “Easton and Weston know.”

I look up at him, and the second our eyes meet, something inside me buckles. He brushes a thumb under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“I’m yours, Harp,” he says again. “You’re my purpose, and you will be for as long as my heart beats.”

---