Page 2 of Welded Defender
He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re okay.” Not a question. Not just a statement. A promise.
I want to believe him, but I haven’t been okay in a very long time. From the corner of my eye I see Brett. Frozen. Furious.
My savior touches my cheek, turning my face away from Brett towards his. “Smile,” he murmurs as he curls up the corners of his own mouth. “Don’t let him see your fear. He’s nothing.” His breath is warm on my lips. “Got it?”
I nod, forcing the corners of my mouth to curl up into a semblance of a smile.
“Good,” he breathes, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You got this.”
“Hey Marcy,” Brett calls out, his voice echoing with a casual familiarity. It's as if we're just two old friends bumping intoeach other at a coffee shop, rather than in a bar across the country from where he should be. As if he hadn't once dictated every moment of my life. He halts beside me and acknowledges Landon with a nod. “Hey, man.” He swivels back to face me, his lips twisting into a mock-friendly smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here," he remarks, the words dripping with insincerity. "But I guess small towns make it easy to bump into old friends."
A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to find my voice. I can’t.
His gaze drops to the plate in front of me, where my half-eaten burger sits. “Eating burgers again? Cute,” he comments, his voice light and seemingly amiable. “I remember when you used to cut carbs.” The words are a sharp reminder of his past influence, and my hands start to tingle.
Landon seems to sense my discomfort and wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling me securely against his chest. “And you are?” he asks, his tone firm and protective.
Brett raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m Brett. And you must be the rebound.” He chuckles, a sound like nails on a chalkboard, and looks at me with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Looks like you moved on quickly. That was fast, even for you, Marcy.”
Landon's arms tighten, his stubbled chin grazing my scalp. I feel his heartbeat quicken against my back.
Brett's lips curl upward, revealing teeth too white, too perfect. His fingers tap against his thigh in a familiar rhythm—three quick, one slow—the way they always have when he’s frustrated or angry.
"Well," he says, glancing at his watch. "I was planning to just meet some friends for a drink." His gaze drifts across the bar. "But it seems like there are too many bodies in here."
His eyes lock on Landon's, something predatory flickering behind them. "Be careful with Marcy here. She gets... confused sometimes. Forgets what's good for her."
Landon's chest expands against me with a slow, controlled breath. "Seems clear-headed to me."
Brett's laugh comes out hollow, the same empty sound I heard when I once tried to leave. "That'll change," he whispers, leaning forward, close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne—sandalwood and citrus—the same bottle that once shattered against my bathroom wall. "Everyone's just a placeholder, right, Marcy?"
Bile rises in my throat. My jaw clenches so tight my teeth might crack. I open my mouth, but the words stick like tar.
"It was good seeing you, Marcy." Brett's lips curl into that smile. He leans forward, arms opening wide. My fingernails dig crescents into my palms. I squeeze my eyes shut?—
A rush of air. The scrape of a barstool. Landon's flannel brushes my cheek as he moves between us. A sharp intake of breath, then silence. "I'd keep your hands off my girl if I were you."
I peek around Landon's shoulder. His fingers encircle Brett's wrist, knuckles white. Brett's arm hangs suspended mid-reach, caught like a snake about to strike.
Brett's pupils dilate. His Adam's apple bobs once, twice. "I was just trying to be friendly, man."
Landon's back radiates heat against my chest. The muscles beneath his shirt harden to stone. "Around here, you don't touch a woman without her say-so."
The clinking of glasses stops. Conversations die mid-sentence. Someone's chair creaks.
"Did they make hugs between friends illegal in this town?" Brett's voice rises an octave higher than normal.
A blur of movement. Brett's arm twists behind his back. His designer watch catches the neon light as Landon bends his wrist upward.
Brett's yelp pierces the silence. "For God's sake you're breaking my arm, man!"
I feel the bar’s tension spike. Patrons hush; the bartender ducks behind the counter, his gaze flicking between my ex and my protector. “Landon…” the bartender’s voice holds a warning.
Landon sighs and lets Brett go. “Keep your paws to yourself next time, city boy.”
Brett's jaw tightens, a vein pulsing at his temple. Then his face smooths over like water after a stone's throw. "My mistake." His laugh comes out hollow. "Just being friendly." His eyes lock onto mine, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "See you soon, Marcy." The words hang in the air as he turns, the door swinging shut behind him.
My knees buckle. Landon's arm catches me at the waist. His calloused fingers brush hair from my forehead, and I sink against his flannel shirt, inhaling. My heart hammers, while cold sweat breaks across my back.
