Page 32 of Caleb
“Well, it’s not like I talk to a lot of people,” she says. “Not that you haven’t noticed. Besides Sophie, Cecile, and my teachers, that’s pretty much it.”
“I’m sorry, Miss.” I keep my bodyguard stance firmly in place. “You know I can’t.” I wish I could call her by her name. I really do. But it’s not something that’s ever going to happen. I’ve made peace with it knowing I won’t be sent back to Tel Aviv on the first available flight because of it. That by refraining from indulging in that selfish and childish need, I get to stay. It’s as easy as that.
“Aaron?” She shoots a suspicious look my way. I abstain from answering that question. She knows he’s in charge and probably enforcing all the protocols regarding our interaction. “It took him years to feel comfortable with me calling him Aaron. He would insist on how it wasn’t appropriate. But you know, after my mother—” She pauses for a second as if having trouble articulating the worddied, so she skips it. “Aaron gave up and fully embraced it. His left eye stopped twitching when I called him by his name.” She laughs softly, and I shake my head a few times because I’m not surprised this girl ended up getting her way.
“Only your friends call you Billie, Miss.” We’re friendly, but we’re not friends. We’ll never be, and the thought alone is … frustrating.
“Mmm,” she hums and looks away.
Without warning, the curtain flies open with a sharp thrust. Miss Murphy gasps, and I’m already standing in front of her bed with my hand firmly placed over my holstered gun. But I stop myself from pulling it out when I’m met with doe eyes on a terrified nurse’s face.
I release my concealed weapon and step to the side, shooting a sharp exhalation through my nose.
Damn it.Can’t these people announce themselves?
The nurse apologizes for startling us in a thick French accent and informs us that a specialist is on their way to talk to Miss Murphy about her injury. Then, she places a chunky bunched-up pillow under Miss Murphy’s calf and asks her to keep her foot elevated, excusing herself afterward and sliding the curtain slowly behind her. That’s how she should’ve opened it in the first place.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” Miss Murphy says when the nurse leaves.
“Shestartledus.”
“You’re fast, though.” She chuckles.
“That’s because I was standing up and not sitting comfortably on that chair.” I slightly lift a brow and the corner of my mouth into a teasing smirk.
“Right.” With a sigh, she drops her gaze and fidgets with her fingers in her lap.
Aaron informs me through the earpiece that he’s back with coffee, and I see his silhouette fast approaching on the other side of the curtain. I pull it open just a tad, and he hands over the coffee, a bottle of water, and a granola bar.
“Those are for Miss Murphy,” he says. I nod. He stares at me for a second, a silent warning.Behave. And I am. I will.
I look away and shut the curtain.
“These are for you.” I hand over the bottle of water and granola. She smiles as she takes them. Then, she drops the granola bar beside her, opening the bottled water to drink from it. I take a sip of my coffee and rest it on the stainless steel table beside me.
“There is no need to be afraid, Miss,” I say calmly, trying to keep my voice down. I want to reassure her that there’s nothing to worry about or be scared of, especially if Aaron and I are responsible for her security.
She doesn’t need to tell me she’s terrified for me to be able to notice. It’s the little things I pick up on. I’m sure it’s hard for her to leave her room and the sense of safety it provides to step out of the Residence for anything other than school. And it only makes it even harder not to want to breach my contract and tell her everything I know about her mother’s death.
The truth about what happened is not an easy pill to swallow, but it would surely put her fears to rest. For good. Shedeservesthe truth, even if it’s painful or hard to process. I can’t fathom why Ambassador Murphy would use the truth against his daughter. All to justify the added security he plans to smother her with for the rest of her life.
It’s a shame, though, that she got injured now that she’s managed to make progress in having her running routine in place a few days a week.
Her gaze is lost in the distance before it flicks back to me. “I’m trying,” she mutters. “It’s just … it’s so hard thinking how I might be next all the time.”
“Next?” I narrow my eyes at her, baffled. And without thinking, I pull the chair next to her bed, take a seat, and lean in. “You’renotnext.”
Miss Murphy rips her glassy eyes away from mine, and a tear slides down her cheek. She quickly brushes it off her face with the back of her hand.
“Running outside has been a challenge,” she admits, unwilling to meet my gaze again. “I’m glad I sprained my ankle because now I have an excuse to avoid it altogether. And don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed our runs. They—help. I look forward to them, but I wish I weren’t startled by every little thing happening around me. Cars, people, birds. Sudden honks of cars, sirens, or anything moving too close to me. It makes me anxious.”
She finally looks at me with trembling lips. All I want is to sit on that bed next to her and pull her into my chest for a crushing hug that would surely let her know she’s safe. To show her what she needs to feel at ease because I cannot speak the words. But I can’t fucking do that! I can’t eventhinkabout wanting to do that. I don’t trust myself enough with the mere thought of it.
“You are safe, Miss Murphy,” I say, enunciating every word, trying to get them to sink into her mind, heart, and soul. Not a single fly gets to touch her in my presence. I’ll make sure of it for as long as I have the honor of being part of her security team. And if her father plans to suffocate her with security for the rest of her life, then I’ll make sure to follow the rules in order to keep this job, and we’ll grow old together.
“You don’t know that,” she says, looking away again. “They still don’t know what happened to my mom, and who’s to know if the same people aren’t after me?”
There’s no easy way to answer that question without revealing too much information. If I say no one’s after her, I’ll let her know I’m withholding information from her. And she’ll probably demand to know what makes me so sure about it.
