Page 40 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
"Luke."
Christ.
I push the door open with two knuckles, slow, so the hinge doesn't groan.
She's curled on her side under the quilt, knees pulled up, one hand fisted in the pillow. Her hair's a dark spread across the white. Tears have already tracked down to the corner of her mouth. She's still asleep. Caught in something.
"Luke," she whispers again, and it's not for help. She says my name like it's the only thing keeping her upright.
I don't think.
I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, and put my hand flat between her shoulder blades. Her shirt is warm. Her back is shaking.
"Anna. Hey."
She gasps awake. Whole body locks. Eyes wild for half a second, hunting the dark.
"Easy. Easy, it's me. It's Luke."
"Luke." She gets out half a sob and reaches for me before she's even fully here, fingers grabbing at my forearm, my shirt, anywhere she can hold. "Luke."
"I got you. Right here."
I shift up onto the bed, back against the headboard, and pull her into my lap. She comes into me without resistance, wraps both arms around my middle, presses her wet face into my neck. The shaking gets worse before it gets better. I cup the back of her head and just hold her.
She cries. Not pretty. Not careful. The kind of cry that's been waiting under a closed lid for a week and finally found a crack.
"I keep seeing them," she says into my throat. "My mom. My dad. Someone walking up the back deck. I keep seeing me on your porch and not knowing somebody was looking at me through a lens. I keep seeing." She breaks off. Hiccups. "Luke, Idon't know how to be this person. I don't know how to live in a world where this is real."
"I know."
"I'm so tired."
"I know."
"What if they–"
"They won't."
"You don't know–"
"Anna." I tilt her chin up with one knuckle. Her eyes are swollen. Mascara from yesterday smeared at the edge. Cheeks streaked. She has never been more beautiful, and I have never been more steady about a thing in my life. "Listen to me. They will not touch you. Not one of them. Not your folks. Not Madi. Not Gabe. Not you. I will lay down every man who tries before he gets within a hundred yards of you. That's not a maybe. That's a fact. You hear me?"
Her eyes spill over again. She nods. The smallest nod.
"Say it out loud for me, Anna."
"I hear you."
"Good girl."
The phrase lands the same way it landed in Madi's living room. Small. Visible. Her breath catches in her chest. Her pupils blow wider in the firelight bleeding through the cracked door.
I clock it. I file it. And I keep my hand on her jaw because she needs the anchor more than I need to be careful right now.
She turns her face just enough to press a kiss to the inside of my wrist.
The whole world pauses.
