Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

But, now, after having read those books, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look her in the eye again.

I was a good guy. A better bodyguard. I made her come harder than any man she could ever write, and from the way my heart felt like it was rotting out of my chest from having walked away from her, I would even go so far as to say that I loved her more too.

But I couldn’t change the past.

And she couldn’t stop rewriting it.

I was waving my card in front of the sensor on the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to arrive, when I heard her door open.

“And that’s it?” she asked. “You’re just going to leave because I wrote some books about you?”

“They weren’t about me.” Glancing over my shoulder, I saw she was wearing a little, sleeveless nightgown, a book in her hand, and her feet were bare. I dropped my chin to my chest and waved my card a few more times. “Rhion, get back inside. It’s cold.”

“I told the cops you smelled like alcohol, you know.”

I sighed, wishing I had opted for the stairs before she’d had the chance to catch me. “Yeah. I know.”

“And that you told me to go to the roof.”

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, desperate to scrub the memory away. “I know that, too.”

“And that doesn’t make you a little mad?” Her voice got closer until I could feel her warmth at my side.

“No! Because it was true!” I boomed, turning to face her.

She didn’t flinch as she stared up at me, emotionless. “You risked your life and I paid you back by throwing you under the bus? Come on, Jude. Even you, all consumed by regret, have to see how fucked up that was.”

“No, Rhion. It never crossed my mind to be pissed at you. The cops asked you questions, you gave them answers.”

“Yeah. You told me that on Friday night, but I still struggle to believe it.” She slapped the book against my chest. “Because I spent the last four years regretting things too. Every day, I wanted to thank you. Every day, I wanted to say I was sorry. Every fucking day, I wanted to change the fact that you saved my life and I fed you to the wolves. So I did. Read it again, Jude. And, if you never want to see me again, fine. But, just so you know, I didn’t make you a different man. I made me a different woman. In those pages, I wasn’t weak and terrified, crying and broken, barely surviving.” Her face turned hard. “In those books, I was a beautiful fucking butterfly, and I refuse to allow you to make me feel bad about that.”

The book fell to the ground at my feet as she turned and walked back into her apartment.

I blinked as the door quietly closed behind her.

Jesus. Christ.

Weren’t we a fucking pair?

That one night had ruined both of us. We’d been living worlds apart but still sharing a common guilt. Mine was for what I had deemed failing her. Hers was for what she had deemed failing me.

The only difference was she’d done something about fixing it—even if it was fiction.

I’d spent a lot of sleepless nights rewriting the fire in my head.

In my version, I’d scaled that house like Spiderman, carrying her to safety, burn-free.

Sometimes, the house still fell, but we watched it from across the street, breathing clean, fresh air, her secure in my arms.

I’d never been drinking.

We’d never been injured.

And I’d always saved the day.

Minus the part where we fell in love and rode off into the sunset, my version wasn’t all that different than hers.

But there was an integral difference between our two stories.

When I’d mentally rewritten mine, I had known the truth.

With as much shit as I’d given her over the last few weeks for not being forthcoming, I’d been holding a secret for over four years.

And it ate me away. As silly as it sounded, I’d spent my whole life dreaming of becoming a cop. Swooping in to save the day. Making the world a safer place. But, much to my surprise, wearing a badge hadn’t made me a hero. Nor did putting a uniform on change the man who wore it.

It was time she knew who I really was—even if it meant losing her.

Snagging her book off the ground, I turned and headed to her door. I scanned my card and pushed it wide only to come to a screeching halt when I found her standing not three feet away, hope filling her eyes as she nervously chewed on her lips and toyed with her necklace.

She’d been waiting. Knowing I couldn’t leave. Not like that. And I’ll be damned if that didn’t stir something inside me—and make me regret everything that much more.

“I was leaving you,” I announced, the confession singeing the tip of my tongue.

She smiled weakly and took a step toward me. “But you came back.”

“I’m not talking about tonight.” Emotion lodged the words in my throat. I gripped the back of my neck so hard that pain radiated down my back. “The night of the fire. The scars. I told the cops that, when you fell, it sent flames toward me and I turned away on instinct before rushing in after you. But it was a lie. I was leaving you. I didn’t run into the fire after you, Rhion. I was on fire and running away. You caught my ankle and I was struggling to pry your fingers off me, fighting you with every step, in order to escape the flames that had engulfed my back. I guess, in the process, I somehow managed to drag us both out.”

I stopped talking and stared down at the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze. I couldn’t take seeing the revulsion that I was positive would be etched on her face. God knew it lived and breathed like a creature inside me on a daily basis.

“I’ve never told anyone. And I’m so fucking sorry it took me so long for me to tell you.”

“Okay,” she said. When her feet appeared in my line of sight, the book got pulled from my hand. “I’m going to say something. And I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I need to at least say it.”

My stomach wrenched. I’d take anything she wanted to throw at me. Insults. Anger. Disdain. It would probably kill me coming from Rhion. But, if it made her feel the smallest fragment better, I’d take it.

Using the back of my head, she pulled me down until her lips were at my ear and then whispered, “So. What.”

My gaze jumped to her face, and I swear to God the woman was grinning.

I blinked, but that fucking grin of hers never faltered.

“So what?” I repeated in disbelief.

“I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but how you saved me still doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” I rumbled, stepping away to gain some space.

But that fucking crazy woman wrapped both arms around my waist and pressed against me, front to front. “It really doesn’t, honey.”

“Bullshit!” I continued my retreat but got no closer to an escape.

I could have physically gotten her off me at any time, but deep down, a part of me didn’t want her to let go. The last few weeks with her had been an awakening, and not just from the years after the fire. But in my entire life. Consuming me positively and negatively, physically and mentally.