Page 228 of Let Me In

She flinches.

Not because of me. Because of him. Because that voice still echoes in her head.

“Show me,” I say. Voice like gravel..

She hesitates. But then her thumb’s moving, pulling up the ad.

And there it is.

A picture of her bike.

Posted like scrap.

A photo he didn’t take.

A price not worth the metal.

And when I see the pickup address, I go still.

Something sharp and raw ignites in my blood. A deep, consuming heat that scorches everything soft in me.

I force the fire down. But only for her, only in front of her. And only just barely.

She’s curled into the corner of the couch, small and silent, waiting for anger. Rejection.

“Emmy,” I say, rough. “Look at me.”

She does. Tear-rimmed and scared and still trying to apologize with her eyes.

I shake my head.

“I don’t want your sorry,” I say. “I want your peace.”

I lean in, cupping her cheek, thumb brushing along her jaw.

“I’m going to get it back,” I say, low. Steady. Unshakable. “Today. And I’m going to make damn sure he never lays a hand on anything that belongs to you again.”

Her throat moves. Like she wants to speak. Can’t.

I gather her close again. Tuck her into my chest. My arms. My vow.

“Stay right here,” I whisper. “Let me do what needs doing.”

But I don’t let go for a long minute. I breathe her in. Let her breath even against mine. When it does, I ease her upright.

She’s shaking, but not cold. Not just that.

Overrun.

Her eyes flick toward the front door.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” I tell her.

That gets her attention.

Her eyes meet mine. “What do you mean?”

I shift, still holding her close with one arm, and with the other, I pull out my phone.

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