Page 23 of Ranger’s Protection

Silence. Then: "I'm fine. Sorry. Go back to sleep."

Her voice is trembling. Definitely crying.

"Can I come in?"

"You don't have to—"

"Can I come in?" I repeat.

A pause. Then: "Okay."

I open the door slowly. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, her hair damp from the shower. Tears streaming down her face that she's not bothering to hide anymore.

"I can't turn my brain off," she says miserably. "Every time I close my eyes I see him. The man from the office. I hear the gunshot. I hear David begging. And then I remember that Marcus tried to kidnap me today, and you had to kill his brother, and it's my fault—"

"Stop," I say, crossing the room to sit beside her on the bed. Not close enough to crowd her, just close enough to ground her. "None of this is your fault. You witnessed a crime. You reported it. Those were the right things to do. Everything that happened after was the Vipers' choice, not yours."

"People died because of me."

"People died because they chose to murder, to kidnap, to threaten innocent lives. That's on them."

She shakes her head, unconvinced. "I should've just kept my head down, and minded my own business."

"David's daughter deserves to know the truth about what happened to him," I interrupt. "You gave her that. You honored her father's life by refusing to let his death be meaningless. That took courage."

"It took stupidity."

"Sometimes those are the same thing."

She makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob. "You're not very good at comfort."

"No," I agree. "But I'm good at truth. And the truth is you did the right thing, even though it cost you everything. That matters."

She's quiet for a long moment, tears still falling but slower now.

"Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep. I know I’ve already asked this and it’s pathetic but..."

Chapter 6 - Delilah

"...but I don't want to be alone right now," I finish, hating how small my voice sounds.

Hating how needy and pathetic and weak I must seem to this man who just killed someone to protect me, who drove through a high-speed chase without breaking a sweat, who handles crisis situations like other people handle grocery shopping.

I wait for him to make an excuse. To tell me I'll be fine, that I'm safe now, that I need to be braver than this. It's what my ex-boyfriends would've said, the few brief attempts at relationships I had before giving up entirely.

*You're being dramatic, Delilah. You're being too sensitive. You're being too much.*

Always too much. Too emotional. Too needy. Too fat. Too loud. Too soft. Too everything they didn't want.

But Graham doesn't say any of that.

He just nods and says, "Okay."

"Okay?" I repeat, certain I misheard.

"Yeah. I'll stay until you fall asleep." He stands and moves to the chair near the window, settling into it. No wasted motion. No fuss. "Lie down. Try to rest. I'll be right here."

I should argue. Should tell him he doesn't have to babysit me, that I'm a grown woman who should be able to handle sleeping alone in a locked room after a traumatic day. Should demonstrate some shred of the independence I used to pride myself on before my life imploded.