Page 99 of After We Fall

“I don’t need the snack. I had dinner just before you came.” I lift the box to him. “Luke, this is stunning.”

He sets the crackers down on the side table, then maneuvers a trade of the items. I take my meds, and he sits next to me and pulls the bracelet out of the box.

He takes the water bottle from my hands and places it on the table, then gently attaches the bracelet to my wrist, the lamplight reflecting the jewels in a sporadic dance on the walls of the porch.

“It’s exquisite,” I whisper, running my fingers over the gems.

He leans in, his fingers doing the same as mine. We touch in the middle, then run our fingers to the opposite edges. Then we touch in the middle again. “Sapphires. They’re paws,” he says.

This isn’t what I was expecting. “Excuse me?”

“They’re paws. Three small stones at the top, one larger one at the bottom. It’s a paw. See?”

His description brings the design into focus. The colors alternate, the orange paws facing one direction and the pink paws facing the other. With a simple glance, no one would see the paws. They would only see a pristine piece of jewelry. One that would accent an outfit with just enough pop of color to intrigue but not display an overload of gaudiness. But I know what the bracelet really means. Another piece of beauty from Luke. A bracelet laced in my style, the colors of my mother, and the sentiment of Luke.

“You’re a kitten,” he says.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you fight for those around you with the ferocity of a lion.” He runs his fingers over the jewels. “But I know under all that power—under all that protectiveness—you hide the sweet, soft side of a kitten.”

Luke’s generous words and painstaking insight shove their way into my heart.

“Which is why you will always take Finley’s calls and put yourself at risk.”

I sit up straight and open my mouth, but he holds up his hands. “Hang on. Let me explain something.” He pulls my hand to him and begins to rub at the headache pressure points. His eyes are on our hands, but his voice is far away when he says, “This is not what I do.”

Having no idea where he’s headed with this conversation, I feel my body tense.

He digs his thumb into my palm as he slides it across the middle. “I don’t protect people. My job. I’m not trained to protect people. I go into their homes, onto their land. I set up surveillance. I watch. I report.” He sighs heavily, the exhale seemingly deep with burden. “But then I leave.”

I remain silent, watching the slow movements of his hands.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he says, massaging up to the tip of my forefinger. When he starts at the root of my middle finger, he continues, “I don’t know what to do with any of this.”

My body cannot hold the tension any longer, a sinking feeling weighing in the pit of my stomach. “Are you—are you breaking up with me?”

He jerks back, surprise crossing his face. “What? No.” He shifts to cup my face in his hands. “I’m saying I don’t know how to protect you. I’m saying that your fierce love for those girls is causing you to make questionable choices, and I don’t know what to do. It was bad enough that I missed you like nothing else when I was in Oklahoma this week. And I was only gone for thirty-six hours.”

I didn’t care for that thirty-six hours either.

“I’m saying that I care for you, and that you’re infuriating.”

I close my eyes, allowing the flood of relief to wash over me. He isn’t breaking up with me. When I reopen them, I say, “Would it help to know that I missed you too? Though you infuriated me long before the days when I started missing you.”

I only get a half smile in return. “It does help. But I need you to work with me on this. I need you to promise me that you won’t try to meet with Finley again unless someone is with you. Preferably me.”

Clutching his wrists at my face, I rub my thumbs along the tops of his hands. “I promise.”

“Anything could have happened, Penelope,” he whispers.

Flashes of memory skitter through my mind, of a shove, a slow-motion fall, and eyes that couldn’t open because they were covered in blood.

“I know,” I whisper back.

His eyes glisten. “If anything had happened—”

“Luke.”