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Still, nothing.
Okay, he was starting to get worried now.
“Abbie?” he asked in a low voice, trying not to startle her.
Her shoulders bunched, and slowly, so fucking slowly, she turned around.
Her pretty blue eyes were massive as she stared up at him, her full, thick lips parted around her thumb.
Then she let out an ear piercing, blood-curdling scream.
On instinct, he lurched for her as he looked around, trying to find the threat. He stopped just shy of touching her, but his body was close enough to smell her sweet, cotton candy scent.
“What?” he demanded. “What is it?” He covered her smaller body with his, ready to tear apart the fucker who made her scream like that.
But then he took a deep breath and noticed she’d closed in on herself, that she was trembling.
He looked down at her, hating how small she looked.
“Abbie?” he rasped, but she didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the ground, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. People were staring at them, and he knew he must look ridiculous.
It took him a moment to realize why she’d screamed. She screamed when she looked at him.
She was scared.
She was fucking terrified.
So terrified that she’d screamed like he was murdering her.
Fuck.
He should’ve known this was a bad idea, that he’d be too big for her. Too?—
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, taking a huge step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His heart dropped to his feet as he stared at her, at the way she held herself. “I’ll just—I’ll leave you alone. I won’t text or call you anymore. I’m sorry.”
With his head down, he turned away. He didn’t want to. He wanted to prove to her that he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he looked scary, with the tattoos and the roughness to his face. But he wouldn’t be like that with her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t make her feel unsafe. He’d rather die than ever make her feel like that.
“W–wait.”
He froze a few steps from her. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself. Turning, he tried to make himself appear smaller, tried to soften his expression.
“I–I didn’t mean to scream,” she whispered, glancing around. People were back to walking their dogs, playing with their kids, and generally ignoring them. But he could still feel lingering stares on his back. He was used to it, but he didn’t think she was.
“I know I’m a big guy, but I won’t hurt you,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her dark brows bunching together.
“You’re not—” Her gaze swept over him, from his scuffed boots he’d tried to polish this morning, to the top of his freshly shaved head. He nearly laughed as her eyes widened comically. “You’re not scary. I was just in my head and you snuck up on me. That’s all.”
“I was trying to be loud,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were in your head? About this?” He gestured between them and watched her throat bob as she swallowed.
“Are you a murderer?” she squeaked, then squeezed her eyes shut. “Stupid, Abbie. He wouldn’t tell you if he were a murderer.” He thought it was cute how she reprimanded herself, but he didn’t like her calling herself stupid.
“I’m not a murderer,” he said firmly.
He might’ve almost killed a guy, but that was purely self defense and protecting Beck. Not because he was a cold-blooded killer. Somehow, now didn’t feel like the right time to tell her, though.
Her eyes flicked between his for a long moment, and he held his breath. What was she looking for? What did she see? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.
She nodded like she’d made a decision. “Okay. I believe you.”
