Page 91 of Forced Proximity

When I step out of the bathroom, Justin’s pacing like a caged zoo animal.

‘Let’s get you some ice,’ he says and holds open the door.

What a night. Every physical altercation I’ve been in is surreal, a movie I watch of myself. This is no different. Taking down the man was a blur, but I replay the details in my head to stay sharp for when I write my report. I follow Justin down the stairs, who keeps looking at me like I’m going to fall.

I grab his arm. And really, really don’t want to let it go. ‘I need you to wait here while I confirm the rest of the house is secure.’

‘I’m not letting you—’

‘Justin. Please,’ I say, and point to the chair. ‘Security is on your lawn, twenty feet away if you need them. I’ll be back. Promise you’ll wait here.’

His creased eyes look like he’s going to beg to join, but he nods. Once I complete the sweep, I return to the kitchen and head to the freezer when he stops me.

‘Please let me do this for you,’ he says. ‘I already feel shitty enough that you’re bleeding because of me.’

‘It’s my—’

‘If you say it’s your job one more time, I’m gonna fire you and never force you to eat my amazing banana protein pancakes again.’ He gives me only a hint of a smile before his face falls. ‘I need to do this, okay? Please.’

I nod, but it’s too much. I want to take care of myself, but also love being taken care of. Why does this feel acceptable – wonderful, even – receiving this from him? Am I changing? Did he change me?

While married to Katey, I was the caretaker, managing everything from the finances to the home. It scares the shit out of me to let Justin do this, to rely on anyone but myself. But there’s urgency in his eyes, the need to try and make something right. He needs to do this for me. So, I let him.

As he wraps the ice in a towel, I scan my blood sugar numbers. Ninety-two, which is fine but will be getting low soon. His back is to me, but almost as if he senses it, he asks, ‘Smoothie, sandwich, crackers with cheese or fruit. Which one am I bringing you?’

I’m not even going to argue. ‘Crackers and cheese sound great. And grapes.’

His eyes are glued on me. He hands me the ice towel, checks my face. Digs out crackers, checks my face. Grabs cheese, checks my face. Thank God I’m not more self-conscious, or this might push me over the edge.

He sets the food in front of me, then picks a grape off the vine. ‘Who was it out there?’

‘Do you remember the IT guy who stopped us in the hall the other week?’ Saying it out loud makes my blood hot. ‘Him.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ he says. ‘He did this to you? I can’t … I don’t even know what to do.’

God, he’s sweet. Someone from the studio did this to him. Not to me. I crunch into a cracker and swallow. How did I miss this? My mind flashes to meeting Tim in the studio lobby, then again in the hallway. Zero indication existed that he was a threat.

Tonight, I’ll go through every detail of our conversation, review my notes from that day. If I neglected something … I stare at the unappetizing cracker and swallow.

Ten minutes later, I put Marcus and Jack on speaker as I detail as much information as I can remember to the police. After, Justin and I stand at the kitchen island and watch the security livestream as police transfer a handcuffed Tim to the squad car.

As they drive off, Justin fidgets with his water bottle. ‘About earlier.’

I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.’ Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. ‘Tonight, when I ran back to the house, I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if someone had you, or what would happen if I didn’t make it up here in time, and I fucking couldn’t breathe …’

He cups my cheeks and my shaky breaths even out. ‘I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m right here, okay?’

The heated imprint spreads across my face. ‘I never want anything to happen to you.’ But it’s so much more than that. I want to tell him how I feel, but he said he was relieved that I said there was no future between us. But goddammit … I’m so sick of waiting and running and trying to be so strong for everyone else in the world except for me.

Tears slide down my face, but I don’t wipe them. They drip into his hands that are still cupping my cheeks. The silence between us grows, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s quiet and intentional. My heart hammers, my lips tremble. I can barely meet his eyes, but I need to get it out. ‘I love you.’

My words are so soft, so quiet, that maybe he didn’t hear me. And that’s probably a good thing because I’m still hired to protect him. But his eyes go wide, then soften.

‘You love me?’ The low, velvety tone touches my soul. He slowly withdraws his hands.

Oh God, oh God, did I take it too far? My cheeks flame, and I swallow. Maybe I should take it back, tell him I’m emotional from the fight, tell him that he doesn’t need to say anything and just forget it.

‘Lexi,’ he says and takes a breath and fuck, fuck, this is terrible. ‘I think about you all the time. I dream about you. The last several months, as chaotic as they’ve been, have been the best of my life. You make me feel like I can be me. I’m not putting on any act, I’m not fighting some demon, I’m just me.’ He puts his hands on my arms and holds my gaze. ‘Lexi … I’m in love with you. Completely, totally, wholeheartedly in love with you.’