Page 12 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
That was the problem.
I was the quiet one when we were kids. The adopted kid with perfect grades and a perfect record and a dumbass sense of humor, raised by blue-collar, salt-of-the-earth people who wanted me to be safe and silent andgrateful.And for the most part, I was.
Until Bailey.
She didn’t care that I was the quiet one. She didn’t care that I kept my head down, followed the rules, worked twice as hard tobe half as accepted. She liked that I asked weird questions and made stupid jokes. She liked that I took apart our landlord’s busted microwave just to prove I could fix it.
She likedme.And it terrified me. She saw me, and she still wanted to be my friend. So, I followed her.
Into late-night walks. Into science fair sabotage. Into one stupid, unforgettable kiss on the roof, after which she giggled and called me “Wes the Wonder Nerd” right before laying her head on my shoulder and telling me she wanted to be famous someday.
“I want to be so famous,” she whispered, “that people forget I was ever poor.”
“You’re already unforgettable,” I said, not even thinking.
She blinked up at me like I’d just split an atom. Then she smiled. And that smile rewired every circuit in my chest. I’ve never been the same since.
The fallout came a week later when my mom saw us holding hands in the stairwell. It was innocent—just friends holding hands. But Mom didn’t see it that way.
She didn’t yell. She didn’t punish. She just sat me down and told me howimportant appearances are, and how I needed tomake smart choices, and howgirls like Bailey are a distraction.
I was sixteen. And I broke her heart by pulling away.
Not completely. I still showed up on the roof. Still made her laugh when she was having a rough day. Still fixed her busted cell phone with a soldering iron I wasn’t supposed to have.
But I stopped holding her hand. And I never kissed her again.
I thought distance would protect me. Us. The group. That stupid pact we made was born from the same fear—none of us wanted to lose her or each other. So we did the stupid thing. The noble thing. We stayed out of it.
And eventually, we watched her fall for an unworthy man. That’s the part of this that haunts me.
She’d had a few bit parts before she caught Oswalt’s eye, and after that, she entered his orbit. The old Hollywood money, the glitz and glamour. I kept alerts on her name until her name popped up so much that it was the only thing in my email. Eventually, I had to let it go. She was living her life to the fullest, a married woman with kids and a career most would envy.
She seemed happy. So, I let the distance grow. Stopped sending her flowers on her birthday. Stopped occasionally texting. I let us drift apart. I figured she didn’t need someone from her past mucking up her future.
Now she’s giving us a second chance to do what we should’ve done back then. Protect her.
Back in my office, I swipe through my tablet, scrolling through the site schematics for her house. The backyard’s got poor visibility. Two gates, both chain link. The cameras she has now are low-res and badly positioned. Her street’s quiet, but that’s not always a good thing—no witnesses if someone shows up when she’s alone. The extended driveway adds to privacy, and again, that’s good and bad.
I make a note to overhaul the whole system. If we’re going to take this job—and it looks like we are—then we’re doing it right. Bailey doesn’t deserve halfway anything. She never did.
By the time I hit the war room, Sean’s already got three monitors lit up and a whiteboard full of bullet points I didn’t authorize but can’t argue with. He’s nothing if not efficient.
Huck’s sitting on the edge of the long conference table, one boot planted on a chair, arms folded across his chest like he’s ready to fight anyone who so much asthinksabout making a suggestion he doesn’t like.
I kick the door shut behind me and nod at the board. “Looks like you two couldn’t wait.”
Sean shrugs. “You stalled. We acted.”
“I wasn’t stalling,” I lie. “I was gathering intel.”
“You were spiraling,” Huck rumbles.
I glare at him. “Thanks for the emotional diagnosis, Dr. Doom.”
Sean points to the screen. “We’re doing a three-tiered rotation—one on-site, one shadow, one remote. Huck takes point on school pickups and drop-offs. You handle home surveillance and schedule syncing with Jessica, the nanny. I’ll run lead on field ops and talent site coverage.”
I cross my arms. “And what about her house?”
