Page 21 of Welded Defender
Still, my chest tightens as I grab the flashlight and force myself back under the lift.
Because no matter how much distance she thinks she needs, I’m already certain of one thing—Brett won’t get within arm’s reach again. Not while I’m still standing.
CHAPTER 12
Marcy
The shop’s hum is steady, low, like the world hasn’t just tilted under my feet. But my chest hasn’t quite caught up. The words circle in my head:
Clean cut. Deliberate. Someone wanted her car to fail.Landon and Joon’s words play on repeat in my mind.
I step outside for some fresh air, but my feet carry me further. Past the dumpsters, into the bite of late afternoon. The sky hangs heavy, gray with the promise of snow. The cold bites through my cardigan, and I welcome it. It steadies me more than any deep breath could.
I wrap the fabric tighter, tucking my hands beneath my arms. My throat burns.
It wasn’t random. It wasn’t bad luck or my own incompetence. It was him. It had to be. My stomach clenches. How far will Brett go? How much closer will he push before?—
“Marcy?”
I jolt. My head snaps up.
A woman stands in the lot, blonde hair spilling from a knit beanie, a cardboard box balanced on her hip. Her smile is easy, warm.
I force a shaking smile. “Nova, right?"
“Aw you didn't forget me,” she laughs, hefting the box. “Donut delivery for the grease monkeys.” Her eyes crinkle as she studies me. “And a good excuse to come meet you properly. Landon’s been trying to keep you all to himself.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I don’t think that’s?—”
“Relax.” She waves her free hand. “I’m teasing. But really, I wanted to check in. See how you’re settling into the job. Can I sit?”
She nods at the stoop by the side door. I hesitate, then nod. We sit side by side, the chill of the concrete seeping through my jeans. She sets the box of donuts between us and flips it open. The sugary smell makes my stomach growl.
“Go on,” she urges. “Best bakery in town. Bribery is my love language.”
I reach for a sprinkled one, glaze coating my fingers. It’s warm, fresh—she must have timed this perfectly. The first bite floods my mouth with sweetness.
Nova watches me chew, then asks quietly, “You okay?”
The question catches me off guard. I nearly choke.
I shake my head, then nod, then let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice unsteady. “I thought I was doing better. Then I hear…” I stop myself, realizing I’m treading dangerous ground.
Nova doesn’t push. She waits, her face open and patient.
“It feels like my ex is everywhere,” I whisper. “Even when he’s not here, it’s like he’s seeped into every part of my life. I don’t know how to escape that.” My cheeks burn. "Sorry, I'm oversharing."
She waves me off. "You're talking to the queen of oversharing. And admitting that a stalker ex is getting under your skin doesn't count as oversharing."
"Thanks," I whisper, taking another bite of my donut. I chew carefully and swallow.
Nova shifts closer. “Look, I don’t know the whole story, and you don’t owe it to me. But I know my brother. Landon won't let this asshole touch you. Protectiveness is kind of his thing. Even for people who don't deserve it." She rolls her eyes. "He would give someone the shirt off his back in a snowstorm if he thought it would help. Even if he didn't care about you, which he obviously does, he would keep you safe. The fact that he does care just means that your ex stands no fucking chance around here."
Her certainty shakes me. I shake my head. “I don't want Landon to need to stand between me and Brett. I don't want anyone to have to protect me or get hurt because of me. It's not anyones fight but mine."
“Then you let us decide what risks we take. That’s our choice, not your burden.”
Her words ring with such conviction they silence mine completely.
