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She stepped back.
The last thing she wanted was a man in her personal space now. Especially a powerful cop like Daniel McKellen, son of the Daniel McKellen the First.
Talk about power. The guy next to her now was so well connected, she would never fully trust him. No matter how pretty he looked.
She didn’t want him touching her. She didn’t want any of the men she worked with touching her at all. The thought sometimes was enough to have her skin crawling.
Except…she was mostly good with Miguel—she didn’t freak when he patted her shoulder or bumped her ninety-nine percent of the time he did. And she was getting better with Jarrod. She wasn’t afraid of Jarrod at all. Maybe she’d even be okay with Gunnar in her space, eventually.
That was it.
That was three men—three cops—she was mostly okay being around now.
When she’d thought she’d never let any man in her sphere ever again. Heather was counting that as the win it was.
She had been doing better since leaving Wichita Falls and Steve behind. Had been relaxing, letting guys back into her personal space a little. But since Steve had been here in Finley Creek now—it was like whatever safety she’d found at the Finley Creek post had disappeared in an instant.
Reminding her nowhere was safe.
Ever.
She’d work on it. When she could. But for now, she focused on getting through every day in the best way that she could.
On putting up that front. So that the people she worked with didn’t see. So her family didn’t. The last thing she wanted was her family to worry about her. Not with all the other hell they had been through lately.
They all lived in so much fear now.
Heather had made herself a vow when that pregnancy test had turned pink over a year ago—she wasn’t going to live her life afraid of Steve ever again.
He had already done almost the worst thing he possibly could to her.
One of the greatest gifts of her life had come out of it.
She would never let that be colored by darkness again.
When she’d realized she was pregnant again, she’d been so angry. So angry.
She’d asked for the morning-after pill when Hope had taken her to the hospital after Steve had left that night. Heather knew she had, even though she’d been in so much pain most of that time at the hospital was a little cloudy when she tried to remember.
She hadn’t wanted another baby with Steve, and definitely not because he’d raped her. But somehow, the doctors had thought she’d refused the morning-after pill. They had thought she didn’t want it.
There had been a note in her chart saying she’d changed her mind, because she’d been afraid of the side effects. All she could think was that a nurse had written down information in the wrong chart. It was the only explanation that made sense—the hospital had had a mix-up. A mix-up that had changed Heather’s life forever.
Steve had broken some of her ribs and she’d had a concussion where she’d hit her head. She hadn’t been aware enough to ask at first. By the time she had realized she hadn’t had that pill—when the itemized bill had come a month later—it was too late.
Then when she’d realized she was pregnant just two weeks later, she’d seriously weighed her options. And made her decision.
It had been the hardest, most frightening decision of her life.
No woman should ever be denied that choice for her own body, especially when the fundamental choice whether to be with a man in the first place had already been taken forcefully away from her.
She didn’t regret her baby girl at all. But what Steve had done to her would stay with her forever.
Every time he had hurt her. From that first night he’d beaten her when she’d told him about Frankie, to the two other nights he had forced his way into her apartment and hit her, knocked her around, making threats. Threatened to do so much more.
To the night he had attacked her, raped her, and she’d conceived Ember.
And he had then turned on her baby sister. Because Hope had walked in and seen.
