Page 82

I roll to my knees and drape my arms over his shoulders, my chest to his back, and kiss his cheek. "I didn't tell you about going to Safe Harbor because I didn't want you to say no because of the attack. You've made a few comments about locking me away somewhere safe, and…if I'm honest," I say, parroting his words back, "a part of me wants to let you. But I can't," I stress when he opens his mouth as though to argue the merit of it. "Like Lawson told me, there will always be someone bigger or stronger than me, but it doesn't mean I'm helpless. And right now, I need to not feel helpless. I need to feel capable and ready. Especially when I feel so uneasy knowing Thad's out there watching me like the creeper he is. I needed to make the decision to go on my own. To find my own strength, so I don't slip back into being the woman he controls with threats and intimidation and fear."

Seconds follow in silence before Sully takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips to kiss. He holds it there and nods.

"I get it. You hungry?" he asks gruffly.

"Starving," I say.

Sliding his hands to my elbows, he surges to his feet with me shrieking and clinging to him like a monkey. I quickly wrap my legs around his trim waist and laugh all the way to the kitchen.

I can't remember the last time someone gave me a piggyback ride, but like all things Sully, it's perfect. He's perfect.

Well, mostly.

But right now? With all the drama going on with Thad?

I'll take this perfect moment with this man and cherish every second of it for as long as it lasts.

An hour or so later, we walk hand in hand into Safe Harbor for my third training session.

Lawson is talking with a man across the room in front of a heavy weight bag, but the moment we enter the space, his gaze is on us. I lift my hand in a small wave and manage a smile.

Lawson breaks away from the man and strides toward me and Sully, looking every bit the big, stealthy, potentially deadly man that he is.

"Hey, guys," he greets us. "Good to see you, Violet. Sully."

The men exchange fist bumps before Lawson's assessing gaze falls back on me. "How sore are you from your first full session?"

"Not bad. I think I'm actually less sore than I was yesterday," I say.

"Okay if I workout and watch?" Sully asks.

"Have at it, man. Gotta do what we can to keep you fireflies in shape."

Sully winces at the jab but doesn't give a comeback. He presses a swift kiss to my lips and heads toward the equipment area away from the mats.

"Any nightmares or other issues last night?"

I blink at the sudden change in topic and jerk my attention back to Lawson. I consider lying, but if the man can read me as well as I think he can, I know it'll do me no good. "Some anxiety but…I managed it. I watched a comedy, took a hot bath." Dove into Sully's bed.

"Come over here so I can tape you up."

I'm surprised by the fact that Lawson is aware enough to ask about the fallout of training. And pleased that he doesn't go into a lecture about focusing on breathing when anxiety rears its ugly head. I appreciate that.

Telling an anxious person to take deeper breaths really doesn't help. We know the things. We do the things. It doesn't mean the things always work.

I follow the man to a table along the wall outside his office. He motions for me to sit on one of the stools, and as I do, Chopper and Havoc emerge from the office. Chopper immediately plops down below my feet like the house hippo he is, while Havoc watches and waits, and I…frown at the dog. "Is Havoc always so intense?"

The American bully is larger, taller, leaner. He's muscle-packed beneath a white-and-brindle coat with a broad head, deep chest, and unlike Chopper, there is nothing lazy in the way he moves.

"Havoc is trained to protect, so he stays alert."

As though sensing he isn't the center of attention, Chopper rolls onto his back like he expects me to rub his belly with my foot. "I suppose that makes Chopper emotional support?"

That pulls a wry smile from Lawson. "Chopper's here because he thinks he owns the place and none of us have the heart to tell him differently. Consider him the meet-and-greet committee—when he isn't snoring."

Lawson begins taping my left hand, and I watch briefly before looking back at the mostly white dog. "And Havoc? Who does he protect here?"

The dog's ears twitch at his name, but he doesn't move.