Page 4 of The Road Less Traveled By

Nobody ever takes into account that the act of not falling into pieces on the floor because of how exhausted I am, is trying too.

That fucker ruined my life, but I have to pretend like he didn't. I have to pretend like I’m okay, that my order of protection will save me, but I know it won't.

I know he’s coming for me, and I feel like a sitting duck.

“I’ll see you later, Bree. I have another meeting to get to.” She taps my hand as she gets up from the giant glass table we’ve been sitting at in her office. “Feel free to sit here and take it all in. I know it’s a lot to digest,so take all the time you need. I’ll keep the windows frosted so you can't see in or out.”

“Thanks, Connie.” She slips out of the room through one of the doors, and as I sit and stare at the glass walls surrounding me, I wait for something to come.

But the only thing that does is worry. Worry that I have to walk out of here alone, that I have to get back in the elevator and stand in the corner for eight floors as I hope and pray that nobody else gets on. I have to act natural, like I’m perfectly okay as I walk out of the building and get into my car, but I know there’s probably paparazzi outside—there always is. I’m not the only semi-famous person who has meetings here. Connie’s management firm is huge, after all.

To the media, I’m Bree Hart, the social media influencer who talks about books she loves, who always has a bow in her hair no matter what she’s wearing.

To myself, I’m Bree, the 5’4”, long blonde-haired girl, freckles on her face, green eyes, the book lover who doesn't believe in love. I’m just a girl from Pennsylvania who got big by talking about things I loved on the internet. I never imagined this would be what my life looked like as a twenty-five-year-old, but the decisions I made have led me here.

So, as I get up and place my hand on the door, I take a big deep breath and hope it will help calm me down, even knowing it won't.

Love doesn't exist. Worrying and looking over my shoulder is all I’ll ever know now, and I might not be alive if he finds me in the next few weeks. I’m still living in the same area. It’s only a matter of time before he gets me again.

I swing the door open and head down the hallway, the elevator looming at the end of it like a door in a haunted house. My steps drag along the tile floor, the luminescent lighting hurting my eyes, when I notice a familiar figure sitting on a bench by the elevator.

Is he real, or am I imagining him?His face meets mine—those hazel eyes I know so well look back at me like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. I didn't think I was going to see him so soon. I thought he was finishing another assignment. “Vince?”

He doesn't say a word; he only looks at me like he used to all those years ago—like he can see every thought running through my head.

“You're back.” It’s not a question.

“You needed me.”

I did. I do.“I thought you weren't going to be here for another month?”

“Someone else took over for me. I’m needed here.”

God, I want to cry. I want to break down because I know Vince would catch me. He’s the only person other than my sister I trust to catch me when I feel like falling. I’ve been scared out of my mind for the past week, and seeing his familiar face is helping me center myself.

After everything, I never thought I’d be able to be alone with a man without freaking out, yet with Vince, I felt safe. I don't know what it is about him that makes me feel like that, but I still do, even four years later.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I made you a promise, Bree. I’m not one for breaking promises.” He stands from the bench and walks over to where I stand rooted in my spot. His over 6-foot frame, tattoo sleeve, and muscles bigger than I last saw him looms over me, yet I’ve never felt safer.

It’s been years, yet my body isn't screaming at me to get away or hide. I’m starting to think he might be the only person I’ll ever feel safe around since his job is toliterallyprotect me.

His hand reaches out, touching the light pink bow that rests on the end of my braid. “It’s nice to see some things haven't changed.”

“I didn't mean to make you drop everything just for me.”

His eyes move off my bow and lock onto mine. “Do you remember how we’re going to do this, angel?”

Angel.My codename. Vince picked it out when I first met him. I asked why I needed one, and he said it’s standard practice. I’m obviously not so important as to need one, but he insisted. He does it with all his clients, apparently. I nod at him. “You get in the elevator first, and you exit with me behind you, but only when you tell me it’s all clear.”

He cocks his head, a small smile gracing then disappearing from his lips. “And?”

“And listen to you at all times. You open all my doors for me, and no matter what, no arguing when it comes to my safety. I remember, Vince. It’s not my first rodeo.”

“I know, Bree. Are you ready to go?” I nod at him again, not having words for seeing him here after all this time. He puts his hand to his ear before he speaks again. “Angel is leaving the building. We’ll be down in two. Get the car ready.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

---