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“Yes. But I’ll take your stuff with me.”
“I didn’t agree to move in with you.”
“No, but you will because it’s the smart thing to do. I can protect you when you’re not here. I’ll drive you to and from work so you’re not alone then either. You’ll have twenty-four hour support.”
“Support? More like a jailer,” I mutter. Because that’s how this feels. Like I’m leaving one prison for another even if the sensation is only emotional.
He stops walking, turns to look me in the eye. “I would never hold you against your will.”
I sigh. “I know. I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“I get that this is frustrating. I get it’s not ideal or what you want. But, Brooke. Look at your car.” He points to where it sits on the back of his tow truck. “He’s escalating. And until we know why or work out how to put a stop to it, I need to know you’re safe. That someone has your back every minute of the day. I promise not to crowd you at my place. There’s plenty of room and I have the best security system.”
“Okay. I get it.” I do. I just hate that I’m putting him out like this. “But promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You won’t put yourself in danger for me.”
“I won’t promise not to step into danger if it means protecting you. I can’t. But one thing I can promise is that I will always be honest.”
“You’re really okay with me moving in?” Now that I’m not fighting him on it, I have to admit I like the idea of living with him. He makes me feel safe. In person and in thought. It’s the most confounding emotion I’ve ever experienced.
“Yes. Having someone to share meals with, watch TV with? I’m looking forward to it.”
“You have to let me pay rent. And for food.”
“Okay.”
“Huh.” Well, that was easy. I figured he would fight me on that request. Emboldened by my success, I add, “We share household duties too, like cooking and cleaning.”
“If you want.”
“Granger.”
“Brooke.” There’s a smile lurking on his lips that has my stomach flipping.
“As soon as my ex stops I move back here.” I look at the buildings surrounding the parking lot. “Into the staff accommodation.”
He nods but the frown tells me he’s not happy.
“And if it gets to be too much. Having me in your home. Tell me.”
“It won’t.”
His words are said with such confidence, I can’t do anything but believe him. At least one of us thinks this is a good idea. “Fine. Let me show you my room but I can’t help. I need to get back to work.”
“Okay.”
“It won’t take long. I haven’t unpacked except for my toiletries. I planned to do that tonight.”
“I’ve got it.”
I know he does. But that’s what worries me. This man who I barely know has more of a handle on my life than I do. He’s the one who encouraged me to report my ex’s behavior a second time. Found me someone more willing to listen. And now he’s taking action to protect me further.
I study him from the corner of my eye as we walk through the lower level of the Lodge. He’s a good looking man, there’s no denying that. Objectively and personally, I see his appeal—feel it. He takes care. Listens without getting distracted. Puts himself out when he doesn’t have to.
Granger Wallis is a man any woman would be lucky to have as her own.
