Page 12 of Psycho

I trailed off, floundering in my desperation to prevent her from running away again. Hell, I’d give her the moon if that’s what it took to convince her to stay.

“If I spend the night,” Bobbie said. “We would not be talking and you know it.”

I could practically feel Pretty Boy’s gaze drilling holes in my back, watching. Lowering my voice, I stepped closer to Bobbie, eliminating what little distance there was between us.

“Why do you think I made the offer?”

Bobbie’s throat worked as she swallowed. After what felt like a lifetime of deliberation, she fully placed her palm in mine, and I took her hand, lacing our fingers together.

Chapter four

Bobbie

This was a colossal mistake.

Seeing Arrow up close had obliterated my self control and destroyed my defenses. I should have known better. His presence had a way of making me soft and vulnerable.

It was wonderful to finally let my guard down around someone, to feel completely and utterly safe in their presence.

And at the same time, it scared the shit out of me.

Arrow would always be my Achilles’ heel. The chink in my armor.

After a brief—and somewhat heated—exchange with Pretty Boy, Arrow parted ways with him. Then we agreed that I would follow him in my Range Rover to his place.

“It’s not a five-star hotel experience,” he said, unlocking the front door of his home. “But there’s central heating and running water.”

If only he knew how luxurious that sounded to me. Living out of my car, I had learned the art of taking the world’s fastest sponge bath in record time during the winter months.

Arrow turned on the lights, illuminating a spacious interior, with a loft and golden oak floors. An earthy scent filled my lungs when I breathed in.

The first floor had been split into two sections.

One side was dedicated to the living room, with a flat screen television mounted on the wall, and some mismatched furniture that looked like Arrow had simply grabbed whatever he could get his hands on when it came to a couch or an armchair, as long as it was functional.

The other half of the room served as the kitchen. A rustic wooden counter top stretched the length of one wall, flanked by a refrigerator and a stove. The sturdy kitchen table was covered in tools and greasy machine parts.

“Ignore the mess,” Arrow said, clearing the table as quickly as he could. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“What is all this?” I asked, examining a chunk of metal that I couldn’t identify.

“Lawn mower engine. It’s been giving me fits for months, and I should just replace the damn thing but…”

He trailed off with a shrug, dumping everything in a box and shoving it into a corner with his foot.

“But you won’t give up on it,” I said.

Just like you never gave up on me.

Arrow dragged his gaze up to meet mine, leaning back on the counter as he crossed his arms.

“I’m too stubborn for that.”

I gave a thoughtful hum, leaning back against the table. Only a few feet of space separated us, but there was an undeniable tension lingering there. Crackling with electricity.

“I see some things never change,” I said. “In the group home, you would take apart the kitchen appliances when you couldn’t sleep. The poor toaster never quite worked right again.”

He huffed with dry amusement.