“It isn’t much, but it’s home,” I say, releasing her hand and dropping my keys on the bedside table. “You take the bed. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
I sit on the end of the bed to undo the laces on my boots. I avoid her eye, still feeling like a grade A prick for upsetting her. “You don’t have to do that,” she says, sitting on the end of the bed.
“I’ll grab a spare duvet and make a bed on the floor. My years in the Marines have taught me that you can bunker up anywhere,” I say, laughing as I kick off my boots. “The en-suite is through here,” I add, getting to my feet and pointing out the bathroom.
“Erm . . .” she stutters. “I don’t have anything to change into.”
Opening my drawer, I pull out one of my T-shirts, unfolding it and holding it up to check the size.
“This should fit, let me find you some shorts. We can pop back to your place tomorrow and fetch a bag of your clothes.”
“Clay?” I look up from rummaging through my drawers. “How long am I staying here?”
“As long as it takes to make sure that arsehole doesn’t come knocking.”
“You do realise I have children with him, right? I’m going to have to see him at some point if I want to get access to my kids again.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, my focus is on making sure he doesn’t bother you, so you can heal.”
She smiles softly. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For downstairs,” she looks down, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be sorry. I fucked up.”
“I’m not used to anyone caring about me, and in your own messed-up way, that was what you were trying to do, right?” She chuckles, and I throw my shorts at her, smiling.
“Kick a guy when he’s down, why don’t you,” I tease, causing a fit of giggles from her.
It’s like music to my ears.
“Right. You use the bathroom, and I’ll grab a spare duvet.”
Lying here by the bedroom door, I double check my revolver for about the tenth time to make sure it’s within reach. It’s become routine since my time serving in Afghanistan.
“Are you okay down there?” Belle’s voice cuts through the darkness of the room.
“Yeah, absolutely fine.”
“Are you sure? I keep hearing you moving around. You can’t be comfortable down there.”
“Nah, I’m good, I promise. Night, beauty.”
“Night, my beast.” I hear the smile in her voice.
I stare into the darkness, hoping that sleep will find me soon.
I’m not sure how long has passed before I hear the soft snores from across the room. She doesn’t realise her own beauty, she’s magnetic. My mission was to save her, but I can feel this overwhelming urge to give her everything she deserves and more. If only I could trust myself.
Screams echo around the darkness and my heart pounds in my chest as I wrestle against the duvet.
“Clay . . . Clay . . . Clay.” I hear a voice screaming my name, but I can’t place it. My pulse is racing, and I can’t catch a breath.
My eyes shoot open, and I reach for my gun, the room is still cascaded in darkness.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” her soft voice immediately calms me. “Clay, listen to me,” she says, as I rummage around on the floor for my gun. “Clay, look at me.” She grabs my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. “You’re okay, it’s just a dream.”
