Page 81 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

Her shoulders tense at the name, confirming there's history there. Bad history. When I had mentioned his name last week, she never confirmed anything about Miller. But her wilted body language says everything I need to know

Her head bobs as she gets a faraway sheen to her eyes, which are hiding behind large glasses again.

I lean forward slightly, with my elbows resting on my knees. My fingers graze a candle sitting on the coffee table and I catch the berry scent. "Considering we haven't seen those men again, it's possible they've moved on momentarily. Sometimes when security becomes obvious, stalkers back off. But I can't be sure they won't return. I only know they're laying low."

Her eyes flick up to mine, then away again. Her voice squeezes each word out like she doesn't want to speak. "What does that mean? Are you… leaving?"

I let the question linger. I don't want to go, but I'm wondering if she wants that, considering how tense things are. Clients need to trust their bodyguards; I may have damaged that.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Her head snaps up, eyes suddenly wide with panic. "No!" The force of her reaction startles both of us. She pauses to collect herself. "No," she repeats, softer this time. "It has to be you."

A pang shoots through my chest. "You sure? I think I should arrange for someone else. Someone you might feel more comfortable with since I screwed things up."

"You didn't screw anything up. I… I was the one who was… inappropriate. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

That completely throws me.She'ssorry? It's me who is sorry. I'm sorry because I can't stop thinking about her. I'm sorry because when she's near, I forget everything else. I'm sorry because professionals don't stare at clients and have filthy thoughts.

"You're the one who deserves an apology," I say. "I'm sorry for creating this rift between us and for how I handled things the other day. I should've maintained better boundaries and not given into my—" I clamp my mouth shut; it's best not to go there.

Londyn peeks at me from the corner of her eyes.

This isn't how I imagined this would go. Heat is thrumming beneath my skin again and these caveman urges are flaring.

I start again. "I need to keep you safe. That's my priority."

"I know. And you are. But—"

"No 'but.'" I cut her off, needing to get this out before I lose my nerve. "This job is important. You're important. And I can't do what I need to do if I'm distracted."

Her eyes widen as she reads between the lines: I'm distracted by you. By us. By whatever keeps happening when we're alone.

"That's why—" I pause, weighing my next words carefully. "That's why the other night happened the way it did. That's why I sent that text. I need to keep you safe, which means I need to stay focused. I can't afford to let anything cloud my judgment."

She hugs herself, a protective gesture. "I understand."

She says that, but I know she doesn't. How could she? She doesn't know about Wunmi or about what happens when I get too involved and care too much.

And I care about Londyn more than I should. I look at her and I want things I have no right wanting—her smile, her trust, a world where we're just two people who met at a bookstore instead of this mess of client and protector.

I'm so tired of wanting things I can't have. But that's life.

"I understand," she repeats when I've spent too much time in my thoughts. "I'll respect your boundaries. Just please don't leave."

The jagged pieces in her voice cut every defense I've built. I want to tell her there's no way in hell I'm leaving. Besides being committed to doing everything in my power to shield her, I can't stop thinking about running my fingers through her hair, tasting her lips, learning the sounds she makes when I discover what makes her feel good.

But I can't tell her that. It would only blur the lines further.

"You sure you still trust me?"

"I've never trusted anyone more." Her voice is steady now, her gaze more direct than it's been since I came over. "You doing your job as my bodyguard and… the other stuff… it's separate."

I wish it were that simple and I could compartmentalize as neatly as she does. This would be easier if I could put my role as her protector in one box and these feelings in another. But if there's one thing experience has taught me, it's that certain barriers can't be crossed or people get hurt.

People die.

The understanding of what I need to tell her cuts through my gut like shrapnel, threatening to make me bleed out. But she mustunderstand why these barriers exist and why I can't cross them, even if the territory on the other side looks increasingly like home.

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