Page 48 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
My stomach cramps, and acid rises in the back of my throat. She doesn’t take security seriously enough. First with her company, then with her home, now with herself. My chest rumbles with another internal earthquake.
I’ve inserted myself into her company security software, so I get notices anytime someone tries to gain entrance through a backdoor in her cloud systems. Fucking Whac-A-Mole. But at least I’m close to figuring out who the fucker is.
Her bodily safety is now another measure I’ll need to reinforce.
“Are you okay?” Lottie asks when she’s finally close enough to get into the passenger seat.
“Yes. But you need a babysitter.” Leaning over her, I buckle her in and then slam the door.
“Thane.”
My face purses like the time Ophelia made me suck on a lemon for being rude.
“Yes, Rafe.” Patience. Patience. Fucking goddamn patience.
“Are you overwhelmed?”
“I… How the hell do I know? Lottie scrunches up her nose in so many situations, and not one of them is the same. How am I supposed to learn her facial expressions if she uses the same one for different emotions?”
“You give yourself grace and time. You’ll probably never respond to stimuli as she does, but you can learn, and it will get easier to decipher.”
“Will it?” I hate the vulnerability in those two words. Being vulnerable is a weakness, and I’m not a weak man—I can’t be. The world would swallow me whole if I were.
“It will. But a heads up?”
I finally make eye contact with my friend.
“You told a grown woman she needs a keeper. That isn’t going to go over well, so prepare yourself before you enter that car.”
“I didn’t say she needed a keeper. I said she needed a babysitter.”
Rafe laughs again. I need to buy some earplugs.
“I suggest you explain your reasoning for saying what you did. It will help smooth things over. Communication is key to attaining your goals, remember that.”
“Sure.” He says communication as though it’s easy. If I could successfully communicate in every situation, I wouldn’t hire buffers for my buffer.
Opening the driver’s side door, I’m met with icy silence from Lottie and a look from Kara that matches the pity flashcard.
Wonderful.
I start the engine, crank the AC, buckle myself in, then face Lottie. Kara leans forward and nods with a small smile on her lips. Is she encouraging me? She gives me wide eyes and an aggressive nod.
I guess she is.
“Charlotte, I said you needed a babysitter because you frightened me.”
Lottie whips her gaze to mine, and Kara sits back with a whispered, “Whoa.”
“How did I frighten you?” Lottie reaches out and places her palm on my forearm.
I can’t explain why it quiets my mind, but for the second time, it’s as though she’s turned down the volume in my brain until the narrator is more of a background buzz than actual words.
“When you didn’t notice that Rafe had groceries in his arms, I became aware that you have zero situational awareness. I could have been anyone in that alley, someone wanting to hurt you, and you wouldn’t have even known it.”
“What alley?” Kara asks.
“Thane.” The lines between Lottie’s brows disappear. “I’m sorry I frightened you, even though you’re the one who followed me into that alley. We’re in a very safe area, and I’m only distracted by…” She clamps her mouth closed and leans against the window.
