Page 70 of Guarded Love

"Yeah." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was thinking about how to capture what we're experiencing here. Not just the volunteer work but...I don't know. The impact. Theculture. The way of life. Like how it’s different from how we live in the US, but also the same."

She stops abruptly, like she's said too much. Her fingers tap nervously against her laptop.

"That sounds interesting," I say and mean it. "Different from your usual articles."

"That's kind of the point." Her voice has lost some of its edge. "I'm always chasing the next deadline, the next hot take. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just...creating noise."

I’m taken back by her confession, but I don’t want to let her know I am because it might end this conversation. "I get that."

"Do you?" She looks at me skeptically.

"Yeah. It's like...everything has to be urgent all the time. Breaking news. A clickbait headline. And people need to be able to absorb it in ten seconds or less. But sometimes we need to switch things up.”

She studies me for a moment. "That's...exactly it."

"But why are you up at—" she glances at her laptop screen, "—one in the morning?

I notice the subject change but don’t call her out on it. “I don't sleep well in new places."

"Most people love that about travel," she says, not judgmental, just observing. "Sleeping somewhere else. Having a break from routine."

"I'm not most people." I exhale slowly. "For me, routine isn't boring. It's...necessary."

She shifts slightly and I notice that she angles her body toward me. "Necessary? Why? Is it because of your anxiety?"

For a split second, I forgot I told her about that. And I’m surprised she remembered. "Yeah. Structure helps keep my mind from spiraling. Much like the color-coded notebooks."

That makes her laugh. “I actually think the color-coding is smart," she says. "Just don't tell anyone I said that. By the way. there’s something I wanted to ask you."

It’s the second time I’m taken by surprise in less than a minute. She actually wants to engage in a conversation with me? “What’s that?”

“What was up with your behavior toward David today?”

Oh. I should have expected the question, but I’m still taken aback. I hesitate as I give myself time to think because I have to decide whether to tell her the whole truth or to phrase this delicately because of how awkward this could become.

"He was being pushy. You clearly didn't want his help and he wasn't taking the hint. So I stepped in." There. That should be good enough.

She studies me, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "That's it?"

"Should there be more?" I counter, meeting her gaze head on.

"No, I guess not. I just...it seemed…oddly personal."

"It wasn't." The lie tastes bitter. I clear my throat. "I'd have done it for anyone."

"Right." She doesn't sound convinced. “Now drop the bullshit and tell the truth.”

Her direct challenge makes me freeze. I've spent so long constructing walls around my thoughts that having someone demand I tear them down is disorienting. But unleashing the feelings I have for her would cause more harm than good. I can’t tell her that if given the opportunity, I would have had her bent over the damn garden and showed David what I thought of him touching her.

I can't say that. Not to her face. Not when we're finally having a real conversation.

"Knox asked me to keep an eye on you," I admit and I watch as her expression hardens immediately. "But that's not why Istepped in. David was being a dick, and you were uncomfortable. That's all."

"My brother asked you to babysit me?" I can see the hell she’s about to unleash.

"He doesn’t want me to babysit you. Just...look out for you."

"I'm not his responsibility. And I'm definitely not yours." She shifts away from me, the small progress we'd made evaporating.

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