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“He’s a programmer. Does things with computers I have no hope of understanding. From what I can tell he’s good at it.”

“He must be if he’s able to find out more about my ex than Chief Yunker did.”

“Felix has more avenues of investigation than Asha.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask where he finds any information he comes across?”

“You suppose correctly.”

“Noted.” She tips her head toward the stairs. “Why don’t I head upstairs and look around. You can do what you need to do for dinner and whatever else you would normally do when you come home. Pretend I’m not here.”

“I can do all that after I show you around.” I don’t tell her there’s no way I can forget she’s here. Her presence has my nerves buzzing, and I’m sure she’s fully capable of showing herself around, but I’m not ready to let her out of my sight yet.

“Honestly, any room will be okay.”

She’s right. All the bedrooms are more than adequate but I want her to choose. I’ve forced her to stay with me. Admittedly her ex is forcing both our choices at the moment. And she’s had a lot to make. They might seem like her decisions but if her ex wasn’t harassing her, would she have moved back to Winter Lake or changed her job or agreed to stay with me?

I’m not stupid. I know there’s no way she’d have agreed to stay here if it wasn’t for what happened to her car. I can hope she’s happy with her decision to accept my demand disguised as an invitation, but in reality, did she really have a choice?

I hate that I had to persuade her by pointing out the danger she was putting others in. Hate it more that it’s the truth. But after seeing what was done to her car, there is no doubt in my mind that her ex is more dangerous than I thought.

There was real malice in his latest actions. Not one part of Brooke’s Rav4 was left untouched. That level of anger isn’t going to disappear overnight. That level of anger gets people killed.

And I’d be fucking dead before I let that happen to Brooke.

BROOKE

Granger’s home is not what I expect.

Then again, I’m not sure what I thought I’d find on the other side of his front door. I just know it wasn’t this beautiful home he ushered me into.

There is no denying I’m standing in the middle of a home made for a family.

One that used to hold a family but now only shelters one man. This place has history. It’s in the pictures on the walls, the furniture that looks new but old. The faded, comfy looking blankets tossed over the back of the worn leather couch and matching chairs.

Everything about his home says come in and get comfortable—relax, you’re safe here.

I don’t remember the last time I entered a room and felt instantly at ease, as though walking through the door removed the day’s troubles from my mind.

Even Gran’s house, the one I spent most of my childhood in, doesn’t wrap itself around me like a warm hug the way Granger’s home has.

“Have you decided?”

My gaze finds his and I struggle to recall what we’re doing, what decision I need to make. It takes me a moment to remember but when I do, one thing sits forefront in my mind. He’s shown me his home. The downstairs suite and four bedrooms up here, but nowhere in the tour did we step foot inside his room. “Where’s your room?”

“Down there.” He points at the only doors we didn’t open.

I eye those double doors to the left at the top of the stairs. “I thought that was a closet.”

“No. It’s the master suite. Similar to the one downstairs, only bigger.”

The urge to take the room closest to his roots me in place. I doubt he’d read anything into my choice, but I would know I picked it to be closer to him. Honesty means I need to admit—if only to myself—arguing against staying with him was a token effort. Subconsciously I made the decision to accept as soon as he’d finished speaking.

I’m attached. More attached than I was with my supposed ex-boyfriend.

Granger is older, has his shit together, and is a nice guy. It’s the nice guy part I’m attracted to most. I can’t remember the last time a man was kind to me without wanting something in return. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure anyone actually has been.

My father certainly wasn’t. And the grand sum of three boyfriends I’ve had were okay-ish. Nothing bad—well, not until the last one—but none of them went out of their way to do things for me like Granger has. And we’re not even together. We’re barely even friends.