Page 35 of The Bodyguard's Fall

He was waiting for me to say more. “But really, I work from home. And nowadays, you can get almost everything delivered, so…” I trailed off.

When he didn’t say anything, I added, “I like being home. I’m a classic homebody.”

He rubbed a hand across his chin. “You didn’t use to be like that.”

“A person can change from high school.”

“True,” he supplied, checking the rearview mirror, which prompted me to check my own side mirror. “I’m just wondering if something else happened to you with Leroy. How did you go from a big social life to never leaving your house? It can’t just be letters and voicemails.”

I had frosting on my hand waiting to be licked off, but I sat frozen. How did he ping on so many things? I immediately tried thinking of something I could say that would appease him while also brushing him off, before he pulled the cop card.

“This is police stuff I’m asking about. If there’s something I should know, you need to tell me.”

“You’re annoying,” I said.

He only smiled and waited.

I blew out a reluctant breath. “It happened slowly. I wasn’t always this much of a chicken.”

He said nothing as he maneuvered us onto the interstate, headed toward Shelburne.

“One day he ambushed me in a coffee shop, so I stopped going out for coffee. Then he started leaving presents on my car at work, so I got permission to work at home. And I was out at a restaurant with friends one night, and he left me a voicemail telling me how much he liked the dress I was wearing, so I stopped going out with friends.” I braved a glance at him, gauging his reaction. His face showed nothing, but his hands were tightly gripping the wheel.

“And then, a while ago, I was going into the grocery store, and I looked up to see him walking toward me in the parking lot.” Out of the corner of my eye, Tate looked over at me, but I kept going. “I got away. He wasn’t able to speak to me, but…I started having everything delivered to my house after that.”

The silence in the truck was weighted and heavy, and I distracted myself by watching the green and yellow trees pass by in a blur outside the window. My stomach dipped and rolled with what I’d just revealed. I hated who I’d become because of Leroy, so relaying all my worst vulnerabilities to Tate Walker only made it worse.

But he didn’t berate me. He didn’t tease me or make fun of the way I cowered from life. He didn’t do anything except stare stone-faced out the window, which was almost worse.

“Well, tell me all your advice. I know you’re probably itching to do it,” I said, needing it to be over.

He rubbed his hand over his mouth.

“He’d better pray that Will and I don’t find him. For his own sake.” He looked over at me, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The kindness and sympathy from this grown-up version of the bossy guy I’d always known was disconcerting. Instead of letting myself get distracted by the warm glow growing inside at his words, I pushed for an air of nonchalance.

“Well, hopefully Will does find him this week, and it will all be over.” I looked at him. “Just a few more days and I’ll be out of your hair.”

It could have been my imagination, but he didn’t seem as relieved as I assumed he would be.

Tate: Is she okay?

Will: What do you mean?

Tate: She jumps at everything. She’s too nice.

Will: She’s always been nice. Just not around you.

Tate: I don’t like it.

Will: Good. Pull her out of it.

Thankfully, the rest of our stops running errands weren’t as bumbling as it had been at Keller’s. We didn’t run into anyone we knew, so there was no need to explain anything. Tate kept it to a simple hand hold throughout the stores, and it wasn’t the worst way to spend a day. The farther we got outside of Autumn Ridge and away from Montpelier, the more I relaxed. Tate was very vigilant in watching our surroundings inside the store, and it was kind of nice to let him take the brunt of the worry for a bit.

Our stops were spread around a fifty-mile radius around Vermont, so there was also a lot of time to kill in the truck.

Tate graciously offered for me to use the donut pillow his mom had set in the truck—the one he’d flung into the backseat when we climbed inside.