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“Do you think you were followed?” I ask, wondering how slim the chances of her ex showing up on my front stoop are.
Like any respectable gentleman, I’d greet him with a baseball bat to the teeth.
She shakes her head. “I drove around for a while before coming here.”
That explains why she’s here after midnight.
“You’re staying here tonight,” I say sternly. Even if she expected anything different, there’s no way I’m letting her back out of the house tonight, not when there’s some psycho fucker trying to get to her.
She might have made her decision about not wanting anything between us, but I’ll be whatever she needs me to be, and right now, she needs protection.
“Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the garage,” I say, holding out my free hand. The threatening note is still clutched firmly in my other, so tightly my knuckles are turning white.
I get the slightest hint of satisfaction imagining it’s her stalker’s neck and I’m crushing his windpipe. The thought will have to suffice until I can actually get my hands on him.
She pulls her keys out of her back pocket shakily and hands them over without a fuss.
“Go upstairs and get showered. Do whatever you need to and make yourself at home,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to the spare bedroom you stayed in before, or any of the others.”
I fully expect her to avoid the primary bedroom, but I leave it up to her, just in case.
She nods, but she doesn’t move from the spot in the entryway, and I see her jaw working. She opens her mouth and closes it again, like she’s working up the courage to say something else, and I pause.
“What is it Jessa?”
“I…” She swallows hard when her voice threatens to crack. “I just thought I could do it all on my own–I wanted to do it on my own–and it’s obvious I can’t, Alessandro. I can’t do any of this alone.”
Her words fall like bricks around me, rattling my confidence. This spitfire has done everything within her power to get ahead, to succeed in the face of adversity, to change the destiny that was handed to her, and it still isn’t enough.
I see her struggle.
I see her fight.
She doesn’t want my help–she came here as a last resort. Even with all the odds in the world stacked against her, she’s still fighting to prove herself, even if it’s just to herself. It definitely isn’t to prove anything to me, because I’m already proud of her resilience.
Her confession breaks through the walls I’d put up to keep her away, to keep myself a safe distance from her, and I step forward to wrap her in my arms. She doesn’t fight or push me away. Instead, she melts into me, her face in my chest.
“You’re safe here,” I say, hesitating before running my hand across her back. It takes everything in me to keep from squeezing her tightly and catching her lips with mine. I want to drag her upstairs into bed with me, where I can hold her all night and ward off any bad dreams that might plague her.
Unfortunately, I know that isn’t an option. Not until she says so.Not until she makes a move.
“You don’t have to do any of this alone, Jessa,” I mumble into her hair. “I know you want to, but accepting help doesn’t make you any less capable. It doesn’t make you weak. I’m in your corner–you know that, right?”
A pregnant moment of silence passes, weighing on my shoulders as I debate whether I went too far or said too much.
“Thank you,” she finally mutters into my shirt, and I’m able to breathe a little easier.
“Anytime, babydoll.”
The nickname fills the air around us with prickling energy, and I’m not sure if I’m the only one who can feel it. I know she didn’t come here for anything romantic, but it’s so easy to slip back into what feels so natural. She’ll always be my babydoll, regardless of how far apart we are.
When I let her go, she hastily wipes her cheeks.
I can tell she doesn’t want me to see her cry, that she’s fighting hard to keep from breaking down. So while I’d like to comfort her through the tears, I decide to give her the space she’s seeking.
“I’ll be up shortly to check on you.”
She nods slightly, and I turn toward the door.
