Page 54 of Protect Me
“Thunderstorms and darkness are her two biggest triggers. It . . . it happened when Timothy was high on meth and drunk.”
“At Trina’s house, I presume?”
“The rest is hers to tell.” Tears pooled in her voice, making it husky and deep. “Vik, please, take care of her. Keep her safe, okay? That girl means more to me than any sister ever could have. The last five years have been really hard on her. Promise?”
“I will,” I whispered. “I promise to protect her.”
The words rang in my head for a long time after I hung up the phone. By the time I returned home from physical therapy, my thoughts had straightened out. All murderous intent had been set aside for now.
Like it or not,everythinghad changed. My focus turned to Katelyn, though I wanted to pummel Timothy into the earth until he resembled dust more than a man. She wouldn’t have to live in fear with me. No more hiding. No more cowering. It was time to remind her how toliveagain. If I knew anything, it was how to press life to its utmost limits.
Now she could, too.
Because I would always protect her.
“Oh.”
The breathy word escaped Kate a week later. She climbed out of my Jeep and stared out, wide-eyed. A wall of trees ringed a haphazard parking lot. Little more than trampled grass and a half-mile two-track road had led here from the highway. She blinked, breath arrested, then shot her incredulous gaze to mine.
I grinned.
“Tempest Lake.”
Brightness blazed across her features in a dazzling smile. “Really? I haven’t been here in years.”
“I figured.”
My car door closed as I cut off annoyed thoughts about how small she’d been living her life, all because of an idiot that couldn’t control himself. A backpack waited in the trunk, brimming with snacks, water bottles, and a few towels. Kate stepped away from the car, clad in a pair of tight jeans shorts that made my mouth water, and a pair of hiking sandals that protected her toes.
I slung the backpack over my shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
Wordless, she wandered in my wake.
A footpath cut through knee-high grasses, similar to an animal trail. This particular lake—more sprawling pond than anything—was a local hangout. Tourists didn’t know to explore this windy part of the dirt roads, and private land on either side shielded it from use. Daniel owned the land where we parked and made sure that locals didn’t spread the word about it.
Amma, Appa, Vini, Kate, and I came here often as children.
The gentle song of birds, and a patter of leaves overhead, escorted us deeper into the forest. I breathed deeply the scent of warm grass and loamy earth, and my stride began to meander. I slowed when Kate made a delighted noise in her throat. She crouched over a bright blue wildflower, bobbing on a tall stalk. It faced her, as if smiling at a new source of sunshine.
She beamed back.
The tip of her finger touched the silky petal before she straightened and began to walk again. Never in my life had I felt so jealous of a flower. A second later, a similar squeal issued. I twisted to find her unearthing half a bird’s nest near a tree root, just off the trail. Concern filled her gaze as she canted her eyes overhead. I laughed, reading her thoughts.
“The birds are fine,” I said. “That’s from last year. See the way the twigs are weathered? It’s old. The mama bird kicked it out and started fresh.”
Clearly relieved, she tucked the nest into a fold of bark, and we kept going.
Similar treasures found Katelyn. Half of the shell of a bright blue robin’s egg, empty and speckled with darker tones. Grasses braided together. A tree that grew into a c-shape before jutting back up to the same angle as before.
“You’re an enjoy-as-you-walk kind of person, then?” I asked in a musing tone as she studied a cairn of rocks set off to the side, marking another trail that led to the farther side of the lake. I waited in the middle of the footpath, head canted back to study an oak tree.
She grinned, unabashed. “What’s the point of the forest,” she murmured, “if you don’t really see it? Oooh! There are magenta flowers up here?”
I stared at her profile, illuminated by the trees surrounding her with long arms, and silently agreed.
We meandered a few feet per minute. Kate exclaimed over a dozen different flowers, a couple weeds, the thickness of trees in one part, the open meadow in another. She collected flower colors like a child and giggled next to me when I teased her about her slow pace.
