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She shook her head and faked a smile to cover the weariness in her eyes. “Nothing. It’s just that it’s getting pretty late.”
I was confused. Was that her polite way of asking me to leave? Nah, she wouldn’t make soup for me if she wanted me to leave. Besides, she didn’t look inconvenienced by my presence…just scared of something.
Was she scared of me?
“Do you want me to go?” I asked.
She shook her head a tad too quickly. “No, no, of course not. Unless…you want to go….” The fear in her eyes grew. “I mean…you are a busy man, and you probably have lots of stuff to do….”
I got up then and went toward her, unable to stand not knowing what was going on with her anymore. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, but we both knew that was a lie. She wouldn’t be standing here nearly shaking in her boots if everything was hunky dory. Something spooked her. I tried to go over our conversation in my head to see if it could have been something I said, but for the last thirty minutes, we’d just been talking about plays. How the heck could that have spooked her?
Plus, she glanced outside apprehensively again. She did it twice during our conversation.
Was she waiting for someone? That so-called boyfriend of hers?
I told myself the dark sensation that was curling in my chest was simply curiosity and not jealousy.
“I’ll go help take the rest of the trash out, and then I’ll be on my way,” I told her, hoping that would calm her fear. But as I turned toward the back, she leaped at me, grabbing my arm in the process.
“No, please don’t leave.” Her eyes swam with barely restrained panic before she rubbed her hands against her jeans and struggled to control the panic. “I mean…let me come with you. Those look heavy.”
I frowned. So it wasn’t that she was trying to get rid of me. But on the contrary, she wanted me to stay. Why? Was she scared of her boyfriend coming over? Or was it someone else?
Someone like that guy who was talking to her back at the restaurant. Protectiveness surged through me, so heavy that I nearly growled.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Who is who?”
“The bastard you’re scared of.” She seemed taken aback by the question, but that might have been because I practically growled it. But it couldn’t be helped. Just the thought of her being scared of someone, of someone potentially hurting her, made me want to find the bastard and rip him apart.
Or simply beat him until he couldn’t move or come close to her ever again.
I told myself that my protectiveness over her was just because she was my good friend’s daughter, but even I couldn’t buy that crap. The truth was that I cared about her, one way or another. I have ever since I got here. I didn’t know if it was because she reminded me of someone or because I could tell she needed…someone or something.
She might be a troubled girl, but she was also a girl whose life put her through a lot.
And then there was that image of her weeping at her doorstep. It was an image I hadn’t completely wiped away. I had a feeling it would haunt me for some time.
Tillie seemed confused by my question. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
My hand came up then, and she flinched almost instinctively. A dark rage swirled within me, but I suppressed it as I lay my hand lightly on her cheek, running my thumb over its cherubic curve. “You’re scared of someone, aren’t you?”
Her eyes darkened as they met mine. She shook her head.
“You don’t have to lie to me, darlin’. I already know. But you don’t have to worry anymore, okay? Just tell me his name, and I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyes widened for a second before they dropped. “You don’t understand.”
“I guarantee you I do.” I’d seen enough women in abusive situations that I knew I could kill a motherfucker if need be. “Is it that boyfriend of yours?”
“No.” Her eyes flew back to mine in surprise. “We’re not even together anymore. I broke up with him a few weeks ago.”
Good. “Mmm,” I said noncommittally. “Then a new boyfriend? The one at the restaurant?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She shook her head so vehemently that I knew it just had to be the truth. “Never. He’s just someone my dad did business with and never completely paid.”
