Page 50 of Protect Me
Timothy shifted toward me, an unreadable expression on his face. In it, I saw pain. Frustration.
Intensity.
I flipped my back to him, in a mental panic.
Dahlia glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze lingered on Timothy for only a moment before returning to me with utter confusion. Timothy had always been the type that faded into the background. The sort of guy that you forgot as soon as you saw him, a threat written off.
How well I knew that.
Prison had changed him. He’d become a little stronger in the shoulders, but still lean. A granite-hard expression filled his face now.
Timothy wasangry.
“Kate?” She stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Gotta go.”
I ducked into the closest aisle and disappeared. Cereal boxes blurred past me as I jogged away, my chest tight. Tears prickled at my eyes as I spilled out of the other side, nearly crashing into someone. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders to stop me from falling.
“Kate?”
Vikram peered at me, concern immediately evident. A light-headed feeling swept over me. His warm hands, gentle but firm, anchored me back in the moment. I put a hand on my chest.
“Can’t . . . breathe.”
Smooth as silk, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me away. We ducked through swinging doors and into a back room. Freezers, cardboard boxes, and a few hand trucks littered the room. He pressed my back to a wall, stood in front of me like a shield, and braced one arm next to my face.
I couldn’t see the store. Most importantly, no one in the store would see me. Finally, the locked tension in my chest gave way. I panted, desperate for breath.
His hand gently found my chin.
“Look at me, Kate.”
The dizzy feeling abated when our eyes met. The closing black tunnel hovered with a prickling sensation on top of my scalp, and now I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t breathe.
Vik, or Timothy?
The smell of fresh shampoo drifted off Vik’s damp strands, loose on his shoulders. I leaned back, grateful for the steady support, and pressed my thumbs to my palm. Unbidden, memories drifted through my mind. The gravel on my back. The empty parking lot. A vague scream that I’d later realize was my own.
Thisis exactly what I feared.
Violent history, restraining order, whatever else aside, this mountain town was too small for both me and Timothy. I’d run into him at every corner, every other moment. I couldn’t goanywhere.
Couldn’t live my life.
Vik’s voice swam through the haze. I blinked, startled to see him still there. He put a warm hand on my face.
“I’m here, Kate. You’re safe.”
“Can’t . . . breathe.”
He sprawled his palm on my chest. “In,” he murmured. I obeyed. “Hold.” My chest stilled, filling with air and space and light. “Out.” It rushed out of me, hungry to be free. Vikram’s steady voice didn’t waver. I grabbed his wrist, anchored.
“In,” he commanded gently.
Then, as I’d been training for years, Vini surfaced in my mind. Amma and Appa. Vikram. Playing in the summer sunshine with sprinklers, dosas, and the smell of sandalwood incense heavy in the air. The goodness of my family—my real family—lay over the top of Timothy’s terrible legacy.
Light surfaced again.
