Page 52 of The Bodyguard Situation

Drawing in another slow, shaky breath, I stop pacing and face myself in the mirror. My reflection stares back, calmer now but still vulnerable, still uncertain. For two long months, I let Micah define my worth, play with my weaknesses to mold new fears. But here, in this small cabin, I’m beginning to see glimpses of a different reflection, one that is stronger, safer, and whole. I deserve to be loved, even though no man has ever loved me.

I refuse to glance at the tests lying on the counter, and I demand my courage. I remind myself again that I won’t be alone, no matter the result. Not this time.

My gaze drifts to the partially open door, and I see Brody’s shadow stretched across the floor. He still waits, giving me room to breathe and find my strength. Something inside me settles gratefully into place.

“I don’t know if I can look,” I whisper, more to myself than to him, needing to hear my voice.

When he finally speaks, it’s firm with gentle reassurance. “You need the truth, Harp.”

Brody’s right. I need it in all aspects of my life.

I find myself breathing a little easier, my heart rate slowing, and the fear that had its grip on me finally loses some of its hold. Because now, in this small bathroom, Micah’s cruelty feels more distant. And Brody’s strength, his unwavering presence, feels like something I can rely on.

This time, I’m not trapped. This time, I have a choice. Whatever happens next, I know I’ll be safe.

My footsteps forward slice through the silence, and I know I have to do this. Right now. I step closer to the counter, and my gaze fixes on the tests.

Brody enters and moves behind me, not speaking, not looking. He just places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a reassurance I didn’t know I needed. The air is heavy with anticipation, and it smothers me. I swallow, gripping the counter with one hand, planting my feet before reaching out for one of the tests.

The result window stares back, clear and definitive.

Negative.

A sharp breath escapes me, more of a gasp than anything else. I stare at the simple line, relief surging through me in an overwhelming wave, so powerful and sudden that my knees almost buckle beneath me.

I glance at the second test. Same result. I sway slightly, gripping the counter tighter as dizziness washes over me.

Micah is a fucking liar.

Brody’s strong hand is warm and firm against my lower back, keeping me upright. He moves beside me. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

I lean into him instinctively, my heartbeat beginning to slow. My entire body feels lighter, released from a weight I didn’t realize had been crushing me. I lift my eyes to meet his, not bothering to hide the tears burning in them, not caring that he sees every exposed and lingering fear.

“It’s negative,” I whisper. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

His eyes hold mine, endlessly patient, and a smile softens his features. “That’s good, Harp.”

A sob slips free, catching me by surprise. Brody immediately pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me. I bury my face in his chest, inhaling deeply, finding comfort in him. He doesn’t speak again and doesn’t fill the moment with unnecessary words. He holds me until my breathing evens out as the result fully sinks into every muscle. I cry, tears pouring out of me, because I knew the truth, the truth that Micah tried to twist.

Slowly, I pull back just enough to look up at him again, my face still damp, my breath shaky but calmer. I reach up, brushing away tears with a weak, embarrassed laugh.

“Sorry. Still Little Miss Disaster after all these years,” I whisper.

“You’re not.” Brody shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes gentle and understanding. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Harp. Ever.”

I nod as he brushes stray strands of hair from my cheek. His fingertips linger against my skin.

“Feel a little better now?” he asks, still close.

“Much better,” I answer, finally feeling a genuine smile curl onto my lips.

Brody squeezes my shoulder, guiding me carefully toward the door. “Come on,” he says. “You could use some fresh mountain air. My mom always said it was healing.”

He leads me out of the tiny room, into the open cabin space, and outside.

We sit on the porch swing, and I breathe easier now. He opens his arm, and I lean into his strong body, enjoying his warmth at my side. The moment isn’t ruined with words, just fluttering heartbeats as the mountain breeze brushes my cheeks. He reminds me that he is my safety; this is comfort, and it’s real.

And for once, I allow myself to fully lean into it, grateful beyond words for this man who stays by me, even when my world feels like it’s spinning out of control.

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