Page 30 of Rent an Enforcer

“What?” she whispers.

“I’ll help you find something. A good neighborhood with good locks, whatever you need. I’ll cover the deposit and even the first few months. Whatever it takes.”

She’s staring at me as all the color drains from her face. I see the exact moment it lands. The way she flinches. The small contraction around her eyes, like something just hit her in a place where there’s no armor.

“What did I do?” she asks. Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Why are you saying all of this?” She pulls the blanket further up to her shoulders, like she’s trying to put something between us. “Is this about yesterday? About the gun? Did I embarrass you? Was it the Godfather quotes? Because I know those were bad… I knew it while I was saying them, but…”

“This isn’t about the quotes.”

“Then what is it about?” There are tears welling, and she’s fighting them. I watch as she grits her teeth and blinks rapidly, like she’s trying to maintain her dignity. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself the way I do now.

“It’s about me.” I force myself to look at her, to witness her pain. I deserve it. “I brought you into this. My life, my world. It’s the sort of world where men follow you into stores and carry guns. Yesterday, you picked up a weapon and shot someone. You shouldn’t have had to do that. You never should’ve been in that alley. The fact that you were is because of me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m not finished.” My jaw is tight enough to crack a molar. “You came to me afraid of everything. Instead of keeping you safe, I put you in more danger than you’ve ever been in. I took a girl who was scared of the wind, and I dropped her in the middle of something that could get her killed. I ruined⁠—”

“Stop.” Her voice snaps like a rubber band. The tears are still there, but something else is happening behind them now. Something harder. I recognize it because I’ve seen it in men who are about to stop backing down. “You ruined what, exactly?”

“Your life was quiet. It was safe.”

“My life was a prison.” She says it sharply enough that my head snaps back like she slapped me. “My life was a one-bedroom apartment where I checked the wind velocity before I checked the time. I almost ate a sandwich made out of pickles because I was too scared to go to the grocery store. The day I met you was the first time I’d been outside in days. I didn’t have a single friend I’d ever met in person. I spoke to my rabbit more than I spoke to any human being, and he can’t talk back. I think we both know his communication skills top out at a judgmental nose twitch.”

There’s color back in her face now. Instead of being shiny and watery with tears, her eyes are blazing, and they’re focused straight at me. She’s furious. She’s also magnificent, which is not a word I use lightly.

“You didn’t ruin me,” she insists. “You woke me up. You’re the first person in my whole life who didn’t look at my fears and try to manage them or fix me or any of that. You just... got rid of the straws. You threw the turtle out the window when I started to freak out. Not once, not a single time, did you make me feel crazy for needing you to do any of those things.”

Her voice breaks on the last part, and she stops, then swallows. I watch her put herself back together the way she always does: fast and messy. “And you want me to leave? You want me to go find a nice apartment and go back to being alone? I’m supposed to go back to sitting on the floor with Socks at three a.m. because the walls are closing in and there’s nobody to call?” She shakes her head firmly. “No.”

“That’s not⁠—”

“No,” she insists, fierce this time. “You don’t get to decide this for me. You don’t get to look at me and decide I’m too fragile for your life. I shot a guy in the leg yesterday, Tristan, while there was a solid twelve-mile-an-hour breeze going through that alley. Did you know that? Twelve! I didn’t even check the app. I just stood there in the wind, and I shot a guy. If I can handle that, you can handle being scared of loving me.”

The word hangs in the air between us. She hears herself say it. I hear her say it. Even Socks hears her say it.

She doesn’t take it back. It’s a word I’ve been tiptoeing around in my own mind, but she was brave enough to say it out loud. There are different kinds of strength and courage. She’s taught me that. She’s teaching me now as she lifts her chin and looks me dead in the eyes, red-faced and furious.

“I love you too much already,” she says. “That’s the truth. I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. I know I met you in an alley because I was running from a guy with a mullet, and none of this is how normal relationships work. But I’m never going to be normal, and you’re never going to be normal. I would rather be not-normal with you than be alone in an apartment eating pickle bread and being afraid of everything.”

She runs a hand over her face. “So you can get over it,” she concludes. “Because I’m not leaving.”

For a long time, I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. What is there to say in response to all of that? How can I match what she just threw at me?

“The breeze was closer to fifteen mph,” I tell her.

“What?” she asks with a breathless laugh.

“In the alley. It was gusting. Probably closer to fifteen.”

Her brows draw together over her wrinkled nose. If I could paint, that’s the expression I would want to capture, but then she’s the artist. “Is that really what you’re focusing on right now?”

“You’re missing my point. You stood in fifteen-mile-an-hour wind and didn’t blink.” I reach for her, and my hands find her face. Gently, carefully. I’ll always touch her that way, because she deserves nothing less. “That’s not nothing, Stella.”

“It’s because of you.” Her hands cover mine. They’re cold and might be trembling a little, but she pushed through her anxiety and laid everything out on the table anyway. It might be the bravest thing I’ve ever witnessed. “The fear goes quiet when you’re there. I’ve told you that.”