“If you ever come near Hazel again,” I said in a harsh whisper so that only he could hear me, “I will kill you.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes, and I shoved my grip with his hand back down, knocking him to the ground. I looked around quickly. Hazel was standing to the side, wide-eyed, jaw dropped. I took her hand.
The crowd parted. I wanted to see Oliver limp away, but I needed to get Hazel out of there.
She was silent on the way to the apartment. No feet on the dashboard. No head resting against the window. Staring straight ahead. Haunted by Dean’s face. I knew what it was like to live with the guilt of seeing the people you had killed. But Hazel had been a part of the circumstances she couldn’t control; she hadn’t laid a finger on him, nor given him the drug that took his life. On the other hand, I had killed for a paycheck. I would kill again if it meant protecting her. She deserved a second chance.
Inside the apartment, I poured two glasses of water. Hazel walked like a zombie to the kitchen counter.
“I warned Oliver,” I said, bringing her a glass. She didn’t take it.
After a moment, she spoke. “Oh, good. The bodyguard has secured the perimeter,” she said, sarcasm suddenly drenching her tone. I studied her, trying to read her face. Why the sudden change?
“If it was him, it’s over now,” I said.
“You think it’s over?”
“If he comes near you again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Save me like a princess? Rescue me and promise that we’ll live happily ever after? Thank my lucky stars, prince charming is here to rescue me.” I rubbed my forehead. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?
I’ll kill him. I’ll blow his brains out and make sure he never hurts anyone ever again. That’s what I should have said. But I didn’t want to scare her. Not right then.
“This is not a joke, Hazel,” I warned. “Someone is after you. Your life is in danger.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” she spat. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.”
There was an iciness to her stare, as if a weight had settled on her chest, her eyes staring daggers into my soul. Hoping to pierce me. To make me bleed.
She was saying that to hurt me. But why?
“I don’t need you,” she repeated. Her voice grew quiet, as if she didn’t believe it herself. “I don’t need you.” As if saying it again would make it true.
“Let me protect you,” I said.
“I’m done.” She shook her head. “I’m done, Grant. I don’t deserve your protection. You can stop pretending like you care about me.”
“I do care about you.”
Anger swept over her, flushing her cheeks. “Don’t lie to me. You’ll leave me too.”
“I won’t.”
She suddenly ambushed me, colliding into my chest. I endured the blow, and when I didn’t budge, she beat my chest with her fists.
“Fucking hit me, Grant!” she yelled. “Do something. Anything!”
“I will not hurt you like this,” I said calmly.
She flattened her palm, aiming for my nose like I had taught her. She froze in place, ready to strike. Fire blazed behind her watery eyes.
“You’re always trying to prepare me,” she yelled, “Well then, prepare me, Grant. You can’t always be there to protect me. So prepare me, damn it!”
“No.” Not now. Not when she was like this.
“Fuck you,” she said. She railed her palm at my face, but I blocked the motion. She hammered my chest and stomach with her fists, gaining intensity, but each strike did nothing. “Fuck you, Grant.Fuck. I can’t,” she said. Her voice turned to tears. “I’m done. I can’t.”
She fell to the ground. In the fetal position, hugging herself close. She sobbed, choking down hyperventilating gasps. The makeup covering her legs left a beige streak on the floor, and those faded bruises made me ache.
She wanted to escape. Needed it. She wanted to forget. Hazel was strong; she could take a beating, but she couldn’t do anything when she was in a dark place like this. I couldn’t hurt her like she needed. Not tonight.
I picked her up, holding her body close to mine, and carried her up the stairs. Turning around, I opened the door to her room with my back, then carefully laid her down on the bed. She turned over, crying into her pillow, and I laid beside her, stroking her hair.
“I won’t leave,” I said.
With fury, she turned towards me, the look on her face ready to accuse me, but then her jaw shivered, and she cried. I put a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze towards me, looking down into those glossy turquoise eyes, and I knew then, that all she had ever wanted in the world, was to feel safe. She had never felt that before. I was the closest she had ever gotten.
I kissed her. Her lips trembled against mine, her tongue urgent, and though I wanted so much more, I held back, being as gentle as I could muster. She shook, and I kissed her neck, her collarbone. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, as if she never wanted to let go.
And I didn’t want her to. Not now, not ever.
