Page 23 of Stuffing My Obsession
I gasp, thrashing harder. “Myles!”
In a blur, he’s on us. One hand clamps around Danny’s wrist, twisting until I hear the sickening crack of bone. Danny screams,releasing me instantly. Myles shoves me behind him with a single motion, his body a wall between me and the threat.
“You alright?” His eyes flick over me, quick, assessing, even as Danny writhes on the ground clutching his arm.
I nod, too shaken to speak, clutching his jacket like a lifeline.
Myles turns back to Danny, crouching low, voice soft but full of dark promise. “You lay another finger on her, and I’ll bury you so deep they’ll never find you.”
Danny’s face twists in fear, and for the first time since I saw him again, he looks small. Weak.
I stand behind Myles, my heart racing wildly, staring at the man I swore I hated just last night, when it dawns on me—
I’ve never felt safer than I do with him.
Chapter Ten
Myles
We wait for the cops to arrive, and then Paris doesn’t let go of me the whole walk back to her parents’ house. Her hand stays knotted in my jacket, her breath shaky, her steps uneven, but she doesn’t pull away. And I don’t force her to.
When we break through the tree line and the house comes into view, the front porch light clicks on. Her parents are already at the door, worried looks etched on their faces. They must have heard the sirens.
“Paris?” her mom calls out.
The second we hit the steps, her dad’s there, pulling the door open wider. His eyes dart from his daughter’s pale face to me, then back to her. “What the hell happened?”
Paris starts to speak, but her voice falters. So I take over.
“Danny Meyers tried to assault her on the road.” My tone is flat, clipped, but it does the job. I don’t sugarcoat it. “He scared her real bad. Good thing I got there in time.”
Her mom gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. Her dad’s jaw locks tight, his face turning red with rage. “That little punk—”
“He won’t try again,” I cut in, my voice dark with the rage that’s still bristling in my chest.
I should have killed that bastard. But I left that life behind. It won’t do any good to have Paris seeing the man I used to be.
Her mom crosses the room in two strides, gathering Paris into her arms. “Sweetheart, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
Paris shakes her head weakly, her eyes weary. “I’m okay. Thanks to Myles.”
Both her parents turn to me, gratitude and fury mixing in their faces. Her dad grips my shoulder, squeezing tight. “You saved my girl. I’ll never forget that.”
I nod once, not sure what to do with the weight of his words.
There’s a moment of silence, heavy and awkward, until her mom straightens, her eyes darting between us. She clears her throat. “Well, I think I left the—uh—pie cooling in the oven. Yes, the pie! It needs checking.”
Her dad frowns. “The pie? You never put pie in the oven to cool—”
“Come on, Harold.” She tugs on his arm, herding him toward the kitchen with surprising strength for her size. “We should…check on that. Right now.”
“Susan, what are you—”
“Now.” She all but drags him down the hall, his protests fading as the kitchen door swings shut.
Paris covers her face with both hands, mortified. “Oh my God. I can’t believe them.” Her cheeks flush pink, her shoulders hunching in like she wishes the floor would swallow her whole.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her squirm, cracking a smile at how cute she looks when she’s embarrassed.
