Page 90 of Keeping Kasey
Those words play on a loop inside my brain a dozen times a day, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. I know I’ve never met Brandon before, but when I lie in bed each night, wrapped in Logan’s embrace, I remember the sense of familiarity he sparked.
The odds of Ford hearing Brandon—or remembering it, if he did—are slim to none. Yet, the paranoia refuses to loosen its grip.
Countless times, I’ve been so close to telling Logan everything, but it’s his own words that stop me.
We’ll execute every traitor.
I’ve done nothing wrong, I know that, but the survivor in me—the one who’s been on her own since she was sixteen—can’t help but feel the need to protect myself.
Even if I don’t know what I need protection from.
Tomorrow is the first day I’ll be back at the base since the attack, and I’ll finally start the search for the communication program.
I’ve been itching to start the project since Logan and James told me about it. The work falls well within my area of expertise. So much so that a part of me worries I’ll get the list too quickly and won’t have a reason to stay.
The fact that I don’t want to go should terrify me.
But it doesn’t.
I’m not sure what orders Logan gave Damon, but he’s waiting outside my bedroom door the next morning, and he all but handcuffs himself to me all the way to the base.
By the time we get to Ford’s office, I’m already feeling smothered—a feeling that grows when I see who’s waiting for me there.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask as I toss my book bag on a nearby chair.
Matteo looks over my head to his cousin. “Can I have a moment?”
“She’s not leaving my sight.”
I turn to Damon. “It’s okay. Just wait outside the door.”
He doesn’t move right away, and I wonder if his protectiveness is more than just an order from Logan. I get the heartwarming feeling that he’s genuinely worried about me.
It’s only after leveling his cousin with a narrow-eyed warning that Damon finally steps into the hall.
“Look, if you’re here for some verbal sparring, I’m not in the mood,” I tell him.
“Not exactly. I’m here to see if you’re okay.”
“And?”
He pulls in a breath. “And because I’m sorry.”
That’s enough to get me to lower my guard—or at least my snark.
“It’s not your fault—”
“Itismy fault,” he says, flexing and unflexing his fingers. “My job was to keep you safe, and I didn’t do that.”
“Ford was with me. You had no way of knowing—”
“It’s my job to know.”
“Will you shut up and let me talk?” I snap, and Matteo smiles and waves his hand dramatically for me to go on. “I don’t blame you for what happened. You couldn’t have known what Brandon was going to do. If you want to worry about someone, it should be Ford.”
Matteo nods. “Still. I wanted you to know I would never intentionally put you in harm’s way.”
“I know that,” I tell him, and it’s true.
