Page 3 of Welded Defender
He presses his lips to my temple. "You okay?"
I nod and step back. "Yeah." My smile stretches too tight across my face. But Brett's parting words echo in my ears, the same three words that have always found me after I run—in texts, voicemails, notes on my windshield. Hearing them here—thousands of kilometres from where he should be—makes the floor tilt under me.
“See you soon.”
CHAPTER 2
Landon
The second her hand touched my arm, I knew I’d go along with whatever she asked.
But when she leaned in, when her lips brushed mine, it was like the whole damn bar tilted.
It was supposed to be pretend—her way of warding off the guy by the door—but the moment her mouth pressed against mine, it didn’t feel like pretending. Not to me. But my pulse hasn’t slowed. My lips are still tingling.
I keep her tucked close until I’m sure he’s gone, until I can breathe without feeling like I’m going to rip the guy apart for even looking at her. Only when Brett’s silhouette fades into the night do I release her. My heart still thunders as I guide her back to the stool, one arm locked around her waist—half afraid I’m suffocating her, half certain I can’t let her go.
She sinks onto the seat, fingers trembling. I pause, waiting for the adrenaline to settle enough for me to really look. Her steel-grey eyes are wide with fear, but there’s fire in them too, as if she’s survived worse. She tucks a strand of mousy-brown hair behind her ear, jaw set.
“Thanks,” she whispers, and her voice is shaky enough to remind me why I stepped in. She needed help. That’s all this was.
I nod, trying to keep it businesslike, like my chest isn’t still tight. “No problem.”
She swallows hard, fingers twisting in her lap, and I catch myself wanting to reach out again. Wanting to tell her she didn’t just taste like fear—she tasted like something I could get addicted to.
I grit my teeth and shove the thought down. Doesn’t matter how it felt. It wasn’t real.
Liam, the bartender, gives us both a look but wisely keeps quiet. I focus on the noise of the bar, the scrape of a chair, the clink of glasses—anything to ground myself.
She’s still trembling, though, and that’s what I need to pay attention to. Not the way my body is betraying me, not the heat crawling under my skin.
“Are you okay?” I ask, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. I resist the urge to pull her against me, to bury my nose in her lavender-scented hair.
She nods, but it’s unconvincing. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
I shrug. “Liam would have stepped in if I wasn’t here.” I nod to the bartender. I’ve known Liam since high school and he’s as good as they come. Even now, his expression mirrors my concern—if I hadn’t been here, he would’ve intervened in a heartbeat.
But I’m glad I was here. Glad I got to protect this angel from that creep.
My heart pounds in the aftermath, each thud echoing the remnants of Brett’s venomous words. I watch Marcy; her features still marred by shadows of fear and vulnerability, and it stirs something deep within me—an instinct to shield her fromanything that might harm her. I knew something was off the moment she sat down at the bar. She was too alert—too tense as she ordered her food.
I would’ve stepped in even if she hadn’t approached me. If that asshole had so much as looked at her wrong, I was prepared to send him into his next fucking life, consequences be damned. I’ve always been the protective friend. But I’m not a violent man. I’ll step in to defend anyone who needs it but my hands stay to myself. But with Marcy…? Something came over me when Brett went to hug her. It was obvious she didn’t want it and the idea of her being touched against her will made me see red. And in that moment, I wanted to rip the world apart for her.
“Where are you from, sweetheart?” I ask, sounding gentler than I feel. “Do you have anyone you can go to for help?”
She shrugs, toying with the cold fries on her plate. “I’m trying to get to my aunt’s place in Vancouver. She said I could stay with her for a while.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“I’m from Hamilton. A city in Ontario.”
“I know the place. Did you drive all this way on your own?”
“I didn’t want to be without my car,” she says. “And I was hoping if I drove it would be harder for Brett to follow me. I guess I was stupid.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I can’t shake the unease curling in my stomach as she talks, and her words echo like distant thunder.Stupid.A word that cuts deeper than any blade, especially coming from someone who’s been through hell.
“You weren’t stupid,” I say firmly, forcing her attention back to me. “You’re brave and strong for getting this far.”
