Page 61 of Too Safe

Althoughwatchingis too mild a term for the way my best friend’s glowering right now.

He works his jaw back and forth. It’s one of his tics. One I’ve seen many times when he’s facing an adversary or opponent.

Pretty sure that look has never been directed toward me.

“You good?” he grits out, averting his eyes to glance over at Kendrick as he slows the boat.

The dock is already packed, PWCs and boats of all sizes lined up at attention. We don’t have any trouble tying up, though. They always reserve a spot for the guests of honor.

Today’s commitment is two hours, but if the quantity of vessels is any indication, we’re in for a long afternoon.

“All good,” I reply, hopping to my feet to help Kendrick on the dock.

“Sorry you’re stuck babysitting,” Decker tries, rising to his feet and squeezing my shoulder as we climb out.

He’s digging. Just changing his approach. Maybe he thinks I won’t catch the subtle questions or prompts. Sure, I’m not usually good with people—they don’t always make sense like numbers and stats—but I am good withmypeople.

Decker wears his emotions on his sleeve. He’s passion and fire, joy and pain. Quick to anger. Fast to forgive. He thinks he hides it well, but even I can read him easily. He only knows how to feel deeply. He approaches everything with intensity, full stop.

He’d make a shit poker player.

But he’s an excellent friend.

I turn to him and hold his gaze, cocking one brow and calling him out without actually saying a word.

“I just want to make sure…” He trails off.

And that’s it. He won’t push it. At least not now. Not right before an event.

He won’t say it, but we both know what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t have a read on her. Or on me and her together. I’ve never shown any sort of lasting interest in someone like this. He’s not in control, and he’s worried.

And rightfully so.

I know Decker better than almost anyone. But he knows me, too.

He sees the way I look at her. Notices how I’m trying harder and putting in the effort when she’s near.

And he’s worried that I’m spiraling.

Not in the traditional sense—I don’t unravel and topple completely out of control.

When I spiral, it’s with internal momentum. It’s an interest that builds and grows. I’m a thread on an infinite spool, winding tighter and tighter, spinning faster and faster.

He’s worried I’ll get all wrapped up in this girl. This girl he brought into our home. This girl he refuses to let go.

But there’s no need for his concern.

Because he doesn’t know what I know. What I found.

Jo’s no threat to us. If anything, she’s battling deeper-rooted demons than all four of us combined.

But her story’s not mine to tell. Andshemay never tell it, either, if the only way she can move forward is to leave what happened in the past.

So I’ll stay quiet. Keep the secrets I shouldn’t have uncovered in the first place. Reserve judgment for how she manages, for how she’s survived.

She’s not a threat. At least not in the way Decker is concerned about. He’s only looking out for me—ever the protector, even when it’s unnecessary—but there’s no point in him getting worked up about an impending hyper-fixation.

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