Page 20 of Bring Me Back
“Willow. Her name is Willow. And her son Jaxon, he’s 17. I need them protected. But I’m not quite sure how she will react to such an aggressive tactic.” I tell him. I can almost guarantee she would be pissed to know I was having her followed, but I really don’t give a fuck.
“She is hiding? Running?” He asks.
“You know who she is. The man she’s hiding from is her ex, her son’s father.” I say, watching his fists clench.
Although Arsenio is a criminal, he is an honorable man. He has no patience for men who beat women or children. I’ve seen him kill men for far less than what Willow endured.
“I will send you what you require. They will remain protected until this man is dealt with.” He slides into the driver’s seat of the sleek sports car without another word, nodding once before pulling out onto the secluded road and disappearing.
I spend a few minutes breathing in the silence, thinking about the beautiful woman currently living in my house. No matter what she’s faced, she’s come out of it a stronger, more resilient person. Day by day she’s reclaiming herself, one piece at a time, from the wreckage of his manipulation, control, and abuse. I’ve never met anyone so courageous in my life.
I’m proud of her, inspired by her even. I know she’s scared, and based on her past, I don’t blame her at all. But I would never hurt her the way he did. I would never hurt her at all.
I check my phone, a message from the woman occupying every spare inch of my mind looks back at me. Instantly, annoyance rushes through my veins.
“Car won’t start. I think the battery is dead. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”
Home. She called my house home.
“Of course, pretty girl. Be there in ten.”
“It’s not that big of a fucking deal, Beck. Please, just drop it!” She shouts, shoving my front door open and kicking her beat up Converse off right in front of the entryway table. She drops her purse onto the table with a loud thunk, not thinking anything of it.
“It is a big deal, Willow. If you don’t have a reliable vehicle, how do you expect to get to where you need to be, when you need to be there?” I ask, picking up her shoes and sliding them into their place on the bottom shelf of the table. I hang her purse on the hook, watching her march into the kitchen without paying me a second thought. I can’t help the smirk that creeps across my face. This woman belongs here, I have nodoubt in my mind. Whether she realizes it or not, she’s already comfortable in my home.
“It was one time! I mean…I know I’ve had problems with it, but I’m working on it! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.” She snatches a bottled water out of the fridge and twists the cap off aggressively. “I’m sorry I’ve got too many problems... or maybe I’m just not enough... I don’t know anymore.”
I lean against the kitchen island, legs and arms crossed, doing everything I can to keep from grinning. I’ll let her pitch this temper tantrum as long as she needs to in order to see reason. All of this came because I offered her the unlimited use of my SUV, the only sensible and safe vehicle I own. No strings, no games, I just want her to be safe.
“Do you want to talk about what’s really going through your mind? Or do you want to pretend this is still about the car?” I ask, and her head snaps up. She’s angry, but only because I see right through her defenses.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to put you out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix things for me all the time. It makes me feel…I don’t know…” her voice trails off, but I know what she’s not saying.
A burden. It makes her feel like a burden.
“You’re tired? Or you’re upset? There’s a big difference. And both are allowed here, Will. You’re allowed to feel however you need to feel.” I tryto keep my voice neutral but soft. I don’t want her to feel like she has to put on the same show here that she does for everyone else.
“Upset takes energy. I think I’m past that.” Her dry laugh sounds bitter, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
“Talk to me. Please, pretty girl. I know it’s not something you’re used to, but you are safe here.” I step closer to her, reaching one hand out towards her arm. She backs away until she bumps into the counter on the other side of the kitchen. This shrinking, this running from me, it ends now.
“I don’t know how! Every time I do, I feel like I’m just making everything harder. For you. For everyone.” She shouts, her eyes darting around like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt at the first opening.
“That’s not true, Will.” I don’t know what else I could possibly say to convince her I want her in my life and in my arms.
“Not true? I cancel plans every time I’m invited. The anxiety of feeling like I’m an obligation is just too overwhelming. I know eventually people will stop inviting me, and I’ve already accepted that. When I need help, I instantly feel like I’mtoo much. So I don’t want to ask at all. I just... shrink. I make myself so fucking small so I don’t ruin things. And even then, it’s like I’m still in the way. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Beck. This is just who I am.” She in a full-blown panic at this point. I want to reach out to her so badly, to hold her tightly andreassure her I would go to the ends of the fucking earth to do anything she ever asked.
“You don’t have to shrink, Willow. You don’t.” I feel like if I say it enough, maybe someday she’ll believe me. “You’re not in the way. I want you here.”
“Then why do I feel like a problem you’re too polite to get rid of?!” Her chest is heaving, ready for a fight—maybe with me, maybe with the world. The air between us is thick with tension, the kind that feels like lightning racing across your skin. She paces back and forth in front of me, her nervous energy desperate for an outlet.
I’m tired of her self-loathing, of her blaming every single wrong in this world on herself and carrying that weight every single day. I have just as much reason to stay away from her as she thinks she does to keep her distance from me. I’ve told myself that a hundred times. Maybe a hundred thousand. She doesn’t belong in this world, my world. She deserves a happily ever after with a real Prince Charming who never meets with mafia dons on deserted back roads. She’s too good, or too soft, or maybe just tooreal. Her pain is real. Her past is real. Dark and dirty, but so real. But fuck, she’s so damn beautiful when she’s worked up like this. That fire she keeps banked deep inside her? It's the only thing in this godforsaken life that feels honest.
She stops pacing. Finally. Her eyes find mine, locked on me like I’m both the hurt and the healing she’s looking for. There’s something trembling on her lipsshe’s fighting to keep inside. Fear? Need? I don’t know anymore.
She whispers, “This is a bad idea.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. We both knew the second I touched her the first time, this is where we would be one way or another.
