Page 28 of Protected

“I said everything is fine,” I say, enunciating the words more crisply than normal. “Stop fussing.”

He makes a soft, guttural sound and straightens with a jerk. Then he strides out of the room, clearly unhappy with me.

Well, that’s just fine then. If he wants to leave in a huff and sleep somewhere else, he’s more than welcome to do that.

I roll over onto my other side so my back is to the door and try to relax enough to fall asleep.

It’s only a few minutes later when the door bursts open again, and his familiar presence fills the air of the room. I roll over to look because I’m not by nature a pouter and because I’m genuinely curious about what he’s doing.

He’s kneeling down beside the bed, holding a torn piece of notebook paper and a pen he must have salvaged from somewhere in the house. He puts the paper on the hardwood floor and scrawls something on it before he raises it again to my level and shines the flashlight on it.

What the hell is wrong with you?

“Nothing,” I say, surprised because I’ve never seen himgo to such effort to communicate with anyone. “I told you I’m fine.”

He leans over to write out some more words.Stop lying and tell me.

For some reason, the vehemence of his words and his scowl make my eyes burn and my throat swell. I fight through the emotion. “I’ve already told you what I’m going to tell you. Nothing serious is wrong.”

After scrawling more, he lifts the paper so I can read.Did I do something wrong?

“No!” Surprise has the response bursting out of me. “Deck, of course you didn’t do anything. It has nothing to do with you.”

So there is something wrong!

“No, there’s not. I’m upset right now because you won’t let this go. Would you please stop nagging me and go to sleep?”

He stares at me for a long time, almost shuddering with the intensity of his frustration. Then he makes another soft, exasperated sound in his throat and hefts himself up to his feet. He’s silently stewing as he takes off his shoes, socks, pants, and T-shirt. Before he climbs into the bunk above me, he gives me a sharp look and writes out another line.

Do you want me to swap beds with Burgundy?

A sob is lodged in my throat but doesn’t release. “No! Of course not. I said I’m fine, so shut up and go to sleep.”

With one more scowl, he climbs up to his top bunk and flops down.

Neither one of us says another word or makes another gesture, but it’s a long time before I go to sleep.

The next morning, I wake up when Deck does before dawn, but this morning I don’t get up. I lie in place and try not to move. Try not to breathe.

After he pulls on his clothes, he looks over at me, the room faintly illuminated by the flashlight.

He knows I’m awake. He’s checking my expression. Checking my mood. Seeing if things are like they were last night. He doesn’t say a word, but I know it for sure.

I make myself smile at him.

If he were verbal, he would have let out a groan of pure frustration. That’s what’s reflected on his face as he grabs his belt and secures it before sliding in his handgun, his hunting knife, and the second knife he keeps in an ankle holster.

Then he’s gone, and I’m left in my pretty princess room all alone.

10

The whole nextweek isn’t great. Not terrible, but definitely not good.

Deck and I had three tense days when he kept pushing to know what’s wrong with me and I resolutely refused to tell him. Eventually he gave up and has been acting with matter-of-fact resignation with me since.

I don’t like it, but the withdrawal was my decision, and I still believe it was the best one for my long-term security. So I have to live with it.

Today I’ve barely seen Deck at all. He had an early guard shift and left our bedroom before I woke. I worked in the kitchen and then gathered up a load of laundry between mine, Deck’s, and Logan’s clothes because my low-level anxiety makes me too restless to lounge around doing nothing.

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