Page 27 of Flashback for the Forward

Bridget blinked up at me, her eyes glassy. “Thank you.”

I helped ease her off the stool, with Cinder tucked tight to her chest. “Let me show you the guest room.”

With a gentle grip on her elbow, I guided her out of the kitchen, and we slowly trekked up the stairs, pausing every few steps when the pain grew too great for one or both of us.

The room across the hall from mine was the only bedroom beside the primary suite that was furnished, and I pushed through the door, flicking on the light.

“There’s an ensuite with a medicine cabinet behind the mirror. Help yourself to any pain relievers you might need. If you want to take a shower, you can, but try to keep your bandages dry.”

She set Cinder down, and he hopped onto the queen-sized mattress, making himself at home.

I hitched a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m right across the hall if you need anything at all.”

Bridget shifted on her feet, tugging on the oversized sweatshirt she wore. Shyly, she peeked up at me through thick black lashes. “Do you have any clothes I can borrow to sleep in? I wasn’t sure how long I had before Aiden came back, so I didn’t want to waste any time packing a bag.”

Jesus. She’d fled with nothing more than the clothes on her back; that’s how determined she was to make her escape.

God, I was so fucking proud of her for getting out.

Swallowing around the lump formed in my throat, I nodded. “Yeah. Be back in a minute.”

I turned on my heel, striding across the hall and pulling open a dresser drawer to snag a T-shirt and pajama pants. Upon my return to the guest room, I handed over the garments to Bridget.

She clutched them to her chest, sniffling as she ducked her head in gratitude. “I feel like I’m going to wear these words out, but thank you.”

I refrained from telling her there was no need to thank me for doing the right thing. If she needed the comfort of expressing her appreciation, I wasn’t going to rob her of that.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I promised.

Voice watery, she said, “Night, Cole.”

Latching the door behind me, I pressed my forehead to the wooden surface.

As if I wasn’t tortured enough by her current circumstances, the sound of furniture being moved across the guest room to barricade the door reached my ears, and it truly sank in how terrified Bridget was of her scumbag ex-boyfriend.

Did she really believe I would let him get to her?

He’d have to kill me first because the only way he’d ever be able to lay a hand on her again was over my dead body.

She’d come to me for protection, and that’s what she was going to get.

With a barely contained groan, I slid down the wall outside her bedroom, prepared to stand—or rather, sit—guard until the sun came up.

While I couldn’t go back and change the past, I was here now. And I was bound and determined to finally make good on my promise to Russ.

Chapter 8

Cole

“Cole?” Bridget’s raspy voice roused me from sleep, and I cracked one eyelid open to find her standing above me from the open doorway to the guest room. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey.” I pushed upright, having curled up on the floor at some point during the night. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” She pressed a palm to her lower back and winced.

With a grunt, I stood up. “When was the last time you took anything for the pain?”

“Last night, before I went to bed.”