Page 100 of The Bodyguard's Fall

Tate: Relax. I would never take advantage of her like that. Any news on your end? Any leads from her work?

Will: Nothing yet. You?

Tate: No. But I’m expecting something any day.

It turned out that being married to Tate Walker and living in his family home didn’t feel much different from before—except for our sleeping arrangements. Once they’d collected all their evidence, the police had returned my previous bedroom to me. But thankfully, Tate moved me into his room permanently, with him taking the single mattress on the floor, the annulment line in full effect. The sign taped to our bedroom door, no doubt from his brothers, read: Newlywed Suite. Knock LOUDLY three times before entering.

It was alarming how normal it felt now to be immersed in the Walker home. How lovely it felt to belong somewhere. To be part of a family unit that was bustling and warm and chaotic. Watching Tom and Ann work together, running their household with smiles and breakfast and homemade bread made me ache for something I wished I had. Something I wished I could have.

But I was a temporary resident here. And trying to remember that fact was proving to be the most challenging thing of all.

I called my boss the day after our wedding. To say she was surprised was an understatement. But overall, she just seemed happy to have the potential issue sorted. She congratulated me and urged me to make sure I still got my work done. Talking to Will was another story.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Will said on the phone the next morning at the Inn. Tate was in the shower, and I was tired of silencing his phone calls.

“Does anybody?” I retorted, lying back on our bed. Our bed.

“You didn’t have to marry him. We could have figured something out.”

“You could have found a way to keep me with him and keep my job?” I pressed.

Will faltered, like I knew he would. “We could have figured something out.”

“Okay, figure it out then.”

“Liv, don’t act like this.”

“Then don’t act like you could have thought of a different solution. One where everything could stay just like it was.”

“It didn’t stay just like it was though,” he said quietly. “You just complicated everything.”

I swallowed, fiddling with a string on the quilt. “Tate’s doing us both a huge favor. We’ll worry about everything else later.”

He sighed. “I just hate that it came to this.”

“Don’t be,” I said quietly, hearing the water shut off in the bathroom.

“Is he keeping things professional?” Will asked. “I’ll kill him if he’s not.”

I thought of the way Tate rolled me away from him last night. I wouldn’t call his behavior professional, exactly, but it was annoyingly honorable at the very least. But I would take that to my grave.

“Yes. He’s very professional.”

“I don’t believe that for one second.”

Despite myself, I laughed and hung up the phone.

Two days after our wedding, we were sitting at the table for breakfast. The smell of coffee filled the air. Everyone’s plates were filled with some variation of scrambled eggs, bacon, and slices from a fresh loaf of cinnamon-apple bread Ann had just taken out of the oven. Jaxon was with Landrie somewhere, at a last-minute fitting for something, and Tom, Tate, and Luke were each looking over a section of the newspaper.

The stress of hay season was now behind the Walkers. The straw maze was up and running, and it was fun seeing the family enjoy a slower morning. There were still chores to do, and this afternoon would be full of wedding rehearsals we’d all be attending to prepare for Jaxon’s official wedding day tomorrow. But this morning, the family lingered for a bit, and I loved it.

I was halfway through my breakfast when Luke challenged me to a card game of speed. With Jaxon busy with last-minute wedding things, it had become Luke’s and my thing lately, and I loved it. I never had a younger brother, and Luke—everything annoying and fun—fit the bill perfectly. It was a two-person game, both of us rushing to get rid of our cards first. We had started the game with overconfident teasing but had soon settled into a quiet, war-like determination to win.

I had two cards left; Luke had five. We flipped over more cards, both of us waiting for our chance to pounce with cat-like precision.

“Do you need me to change that bandage again?” Ann’s soft voice reached my ears. From the corner of my eye, I saw her rest a hand on the table and lean toward Tate.

Luke flipped a card over and immediately got rid of three.