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My blood boils. Jess’s ex treated her like a punching bag.
I’m glad the asshole is dead. I’m sorry he didn’t die sooner.
And I’m pissed as hell someone framed Jess for his murder.
But knowing the only reason she told me about her past is because of the accident…if Samuel hadn’t seen the scars and asked me about them, who knows if Jess would have told me the truth?
She didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth until she was backed into a corner. Until she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Even Kellan knew she’d once been wrongfully imprisoned.
But he didn’t know about her husband.
Knowing that’s true gives me very little satisfaction.
I lean back on the couch, my thoughts still reeling from everything Jess told me. Her reaction in the ER at what happened to my truck now makes sense. Christ knows what her husband would’ve done to her if it had been his vehicle. “You’re moving in with me.”
She flinches even though I didn’t say it harshly. Resentment lights her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’ve spent the last eight years living like that—never given a choice.”
I mentally curse myself for not considering her past before giving commander-stripes to those words. “I’m sorry, Jess. You’re right.” She’s never going to trust me if I keep pulling bullshit stuff like that. “I care about you and…and it pisses me off what you’ve been through. All of it.” The abuse. Prison. PTSD. The accident. “I just want to keep you safe.”
I failed my best friend. I can’t…I won’t let that happen with Jess.
“I get that. But what exactly are you trying to keep me safe from? The media hasn’t tracked me down. No one knows my secret. I haven’t received death threats because I live here.”
“You set up traps on your doors and windows because you don’t feel safe,” I point out. “Those aren’t infallible. You thought someone broke into your house because the tape came unstuck. What if someone had? We don’t know for sure what happened to the tape.”
Jess releases a long and frustrated breath, the movement deflating her shoulders. “I know, but I have to do what’s right for me, Troy. And I have to be the one who gets to determine what that is.”
“I get that.” I really do. “But I spent four years as a Marine. Protecting people is what I do.”
The corners of her mouth twitch. “Are you going to whip out your cape next, or throw around your giant hammer?”
“Nothing that extreme. Though the giant hammer might be useful.” A wry grin spreads across my face. My gaze shifts to Bailey, who’s now dozing in the sunny spot next to her partner in crime, and the grin drops away. “Does the vet have any idea when or how Bailey was poisoned?”
Jess’s own amusement flatlines from her face. “Not a clue. She didn’t eat anything she shouldn’t have when I took her for a walk yesterday. She was with me the entire day.”
“Is it possible someone poisoned her food?”
“I don’t know.” Jess seems to shrink in on herself at that suggestion, and I silently curse some more, only this time it’s directed at the person who stole her sense of security.
“Are you gonna move in with me so I can keep you and Bailey safe?” I nod at the two snoozing dogs on the floor. “I know someone who’d love to have Bailey around.”
Jess laughs, the sound slightly brittle. But at the same time, it’s just an inch short of my favorite laugh. “You mean as a pillow.” Butterscotch is using Bailey’s body for that purpose.
The grin flickers back on my face. “Partly for that.” The smile fades and my resolve to keep Jess safe hardens. “So, are you moving in with me?”
“No. For once I’m living where I want to live. Where I can come and go as I please…”
Shit, I hate this. Hate feeling helpless at not being able to protect her. “You wouldn’t be a prisoner in my house, Jess. You don’t need my permission to leave whenever you want. I’m not your late husband and I’m not a prison guard.”
Husband.
Widow.
I still can’t link those two words with Jess.
Not Jessica. Savannah.
