Page 29 of No Good Fight

I went back inside and asked three questions too calmly. The real maintenance worker gave me the landlord’s name, confirmed he didn’t know the other guy beyond “sent by the office,” and got nervous when I asked who had signed the work order and whether they’d already been in her apartment.

Good.

He should be nervous.

I left before my face said too much.

For the next hour, I sat in my truck outside a gas station two blocks from Alex’s building and debated telling her everything.

The words were easy in my head.

There’s a dark SUV following you. Someone unauthorized may have been near your apartment. You need to stay somewhere else tonight. Preferably with me, though I’d never say that part with Josh still breathing.

Alex would hear the first sentence and sharpen.

She’d hear the second and panic.

She’d hear the third and fight me because pressure made her push back, and the last thing I could afford was to make myself one more man trying to move her around the board like a chess piece.

So I chose the version that made sense only if I didn’t look at it directly.

The version where I get to stay close, keep my presence a secret, and still keep her safe.

That was where the line in the sand shifted for me. I felt it happen. Protection became something quieter and uglier, something that didn’t ask permission because permission might be denied.

My phone buzzed at 7:42.

Alex: Thanks again for last night.

I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

Then I tapped it awake and stared some more.

Alex did not text me first. She didn’t reach out like that. Not emotionally. She deflected, minimized, made jokes sharp enough to keep people from leaning too close. A thank-you from her wasn’t just a thank-you. It was a door opened a few inches by someone who expected it to get slammed on her toes for her effort.

I typed three different replies.

Of course.

Nope. That’s not good enough.

You okay?

Nope.

I’d do it again.

Still not it.

I deleted all of them.

Anytime.

I sent it before I could make it worse.

The bubbles appeared almost immediately, then vanished. Came back. Vanished again.

I didn’t breathe right until her next message arrived.