Page 38 of Checking from Behind

"Why would I run?" I asked, brushing her hair off her face.

"Because of the baggage I carry and because dating me comes with an entire set of complications most twenty-three-year-old guys would run screaming from."

"I'm not most guys, Lillah."

"No," she said, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "You're not."

She pressed her lips against mine.

"Goodnight," she whispered and headed inside, closing the door behind her.

I stood there, letting what she'd told me settle inside me. A man had hurt her, controlled her, broke her, then wrapped his hands around her throat. She'd left and rebuilt herself.

I made my way home, unlocked my door and went into the kitchen. I placed my hands down on the marble counter of the island and stood there thinking about what she'd told me. I promised myself that I'd never give her a reason to be afraid of me. Not once, not ever. And I promised myself if I ever laid my eyes on him I wouldn't act on the anger I felt inside me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LILLAH

Marshall and I had fallen into a comfortable rhythm after our date. He would come over after practice, let himself in through the back door I'd leave unlocked. Cooper would meet him, his tail wagging, and escort him upstairs where he'd find me still asleep in bed. He'd crawl in and pull me into his arms and wake me up most mornings, then we'd enjoy breakfast together before I got to work. I would go to his place after his games, and we'd curl up on his couch. Some nights I'd bring my laptop to do some last-minute work while he relaxed after playing hockey and watched TV. On the nights he didn't play, we would cook dinner together, take Cooper for a walk, and watch a movie. Most nights we would fall asleep in one another's beds, and wake up tangled together in the sheets, his arm around my waist, my back pressed into his chest.

He was easy to be with, almost too easy. There was never any pressure; we were two people figuring each other out. When I needed to talk about the past, he would hold my hand and listen, never once interfering.

My career was picking up as well. I'd had two new client inquiries in the past week. One was a full renovation of a house along the water, and the other was a restaurant redesign. The Henderson project I'd been working on was now almost complete, and they had referred two of their friends to me. Everything was coming together.

I got up from my computer and walked into the kitchen to make a coffee when my phone buzzed on the island. I glanced at the screen, seeing a text from Mila.

Mila: How's the hockey boyfriend? Still hot as hell?

I smiled and typed back.

Lillah: Hotter than hot. Still next door and still makes amazing tacos.

Mila: Sounds like you are living the dream. Call me later so we can catch up. I want all the details.

I put my phone down, filled the kettle and turned it on, pulling a mug from my cupboard. I turned around and looked into the living room to see Cooper sleeping on the sofa, the house quiet, how I liked it.

I had poured the hot water into the french press I'd picked up last weekend with Marshall when the doorbell rang.

I made my way to the door, wiping my hands on my jeans. I assumed it was the package I'd ordered. A set of new throw pillows from a vendor in Vermont I'd decided I deserved. They were supposed to arrive any minute, and I was excited to see if they matched the fabric of the accent chairs that had been delivered for the Henderson project, because if they did, I'd need to order another set.

I pulled the door open without checking the peephole, something I rarely, if ever, did, and everything in me went still.

Brett was standing on my front porch in a leather jacket and jeans, holding a bouquet of white roses. Of course he remembered my favorite flower, because remembering those small things was how he'd gotten me the first time. This was him, this was his skill. He learned what you loved so he could use it to keep you close and hurt you with it later.

His hair was shorter than I remembered; probably the team's PR people had insisted he cut it. His shoulders were broader, probably due to off-season training and whatever supplements he'd chosen to take to bulk himself up. He looked good, but then he always looked good, which was the problem. I already knew that the package didn't match what was inside.

"Hey baby." He said, smiling.

That smile had fooled me for three years. Now it made me feel ill.

My body went stiff as anxiety crept through me. My body remembered everything; it remembered his hands on my neck, the pressure he applied, and the way the air vanished when his fingers tightened around my throat.

Behind me, I heard a low rumble coming from Cooper. Not a growl, but a warning. Dogs always had a way of knowing who the bad ones were.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, my voice flat and controlled. "This is a private, gated community."

"Told the guard I was visiting a friend for a surprise birthday party. He didn't question it." Brett said, holding out the flowers.