Suddenly it hit me. Something that had been staring me in the face for a long time. Standing there in that crappy hotel room, gaping at Finley like an idiot, both of us still trembling with leftover adrenaline...I realized just how deeply I'd fallen in love with her.

  Fuck, I was in so much trouble. And I didn't even care.

  “Wow. She’s out?” Finley asked, crossing the room over to the empty bed across from the one I was sitting on.

  I nodded. “She went down without a peep.”

  “She’s one resilient kid.”

  “A lot like her mom in that regard.”

  She made a noise of disagreement.

  “I've got some more good news. Barton called and confirmed that Brant is in custody. He was arrested and charged with aggravated kidnapping, assault, endangering a child, carrying a weapon without a permit, and a whole bunch of other things. He’ll be facing serious time.”

  “Thank you.” Her hands trembled in her lap.

  I nodded. “You’ll have to make a statement to the police when we get back into town.”

  “That’s no problem.”

  After what Brant had done, she’d have no problem making sure that he got the maximum punishment coming to him. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. There was so much more I wanted to ask her, things we needed to talk about, but I wouldn’t push her tonight. She was obviously tired and exhausted. Her eyes looked heavy and her breathing was shallow. She was laying on her side on the bed, watching me, and I mirrored her pose, laying across from her. The desire to touch her creamy skin, to kiss her mouth, to make sure every last inch of her was okay would have to wait.

  “I need to know ... did he touch you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Thank God. He didn’t try anything like that. But if you hadn’t gotten there ...”

  I nodded, utterly fucking relieved. I was sure that Brant would have tried something eventually. And just like he’d taken her against her will, the word no wouldn’t have mattered to him.

  Finley pulled the covers around her and I flicked off the lamp. “Get some sleep,” I said. “We’ll figure everything out in the morning.” I hope.

  * * *

  After a pancake breakfast at a diner along the highway, we were finally back in town. I pulled into Finley’s apartment complex and took a moment to compose myself. I didn’t want this to end in a fight, but I had a feeling it might, and I was prepared to go to battle.

  Once inside, we watched Maple run straight to her stuffed owl and squeal with delight. Finley’s eyes found mine and she smiled—for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I was willing to bet.

  “It’s good to be home, isn’t it, baby?” Finley said.

  If she thought this was home, she was kidding herself. “Get packed up, I’ll wait.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Her smile vanished, eyes narrowing. “Wait. What?”

  “If you think after everything that’s happened, I’m letting you guys stay here ...” I shook my head, my stiff posture matching hers.

  “And here I thought you were being so sweet and helpful.” She planted her hands on her hips. “But once again, you’re just trying to control the situation. How many times do I have to tell you I can fend for myself? Plus, Brant’s locked up. You said we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  I growled out a curse under my breath. Her constant rejection didn’t just hurt, it fucking stung. I'd been pushed too far and I was ready to snap. With Maple playing across the room, I leaned in close to Finley; I didn’t want her daughter to hear the ugly venom in my voice. “I'm done. You pushed too far this time. I don't give a flying fuck what you want anymore. Do you know what I went through knowing you two were in danger? And it's become pretty damn obvious that this place isn't safe. So I'm not asking you again. I'm telling you. Pack your shit. Please. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

  We squared off, gazes locked together, neither of us willing to budge. But this was it. If she pushed me again, I might just walk out of her life for good. This moment meant everything.

  Just as Finley angrily opened her mouth, a knock sounded at her door.

  Her brow crinkled in confusion, she growled and whipped around to open up. It was a thin, jowly man with a bad comb-over and a handful of wrinkled papers. Based on the pieces of their hushed conversation I strung together, he was her landlord, and she was late on her rent. Very late—more than what she would've missed while being held prisoner.

  Watching this train wreck of a conversation almost made me feel bad for Finley. None of this was her fault, and her dignity had already taken a beating lately. But it was time for her to realize that she wasn’t in this life alone. She didn't have to prove anything. She didn’t have to shoulder every burden like it was her own personal cross to bear. I wanted to help. I was here for her, and I always would be. Time and time again, I'd demonstrated that she could rely on me, and still she was fighting her way through life alone, one awful situation after another.

  “I told you one more time and I’d evict you,” the landlord said, his voice stiff. Clearly this wasn’t his favorite part of the job.

  Adding this complication to an already volatile situation was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Finley straightened her shoulders and gritted her teeth. “Fine. Then consider us evicted. Bye.” She slammed the door in his face and stalked into the bedroom, me on her heels and Maple toddling along behind us.

  I watched as Finley grabbed a duffel bag from her closet and started stuffing the clothes from her dresser inside. She looked up at me and I expected some smart quip about me getting what I wanted. Instead, her eyes were simply sad.

  “Will you go pack up that bureau?” She tipped her chin to the tall dresser in the corner of her bedroom. “It’s Marcus’s stuff and I can’t bear to go through it right now.”

  “Of course.”

  While I packed up a few framed photos, dog tags, a folded flag and a box of old letters, Finley threw clothes and shoes and toys into a couple of bags.

  “What about the furniture?” I asked when she looked like she was through.

  “Maple will need a crib...but the rest...” She shrugged.

  “We’ll get her a new one.”

  Finley breathed deeply for the first time since we arrived. “Let the property management deal with it. It was all secondhand anyhow.”

  I lifted Maple into my arms and took a couple of the bags from Finley. “Fine by me. Let’s roll, baby.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Finley

  When we reached the handsome Craftsman-style house faced in creamy natural stone, its deep wooden eaves seemed to reach out to shelter us. My stomach settled the tiniest bit. Grey turned and pulled his black SUV into its two-car garage. As we unloaded the car, it suddenly struck me that I'd never seen Grey's home before. How strange. That night when we'd first run into each other at the strip club had been over a month ago. And it was starting to feel like he'd been part of our lives forever. So how was it that he'd always come to us, never the other way around?

  But even more striking was the house itself. I looked around in awe as Grey led us to our guest bedroom upstairs. The huge kitchen boasted speckled granite countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and an island where I could picture Maple sitting in her high chair to watch me cook. The first floor's sliding glass doors led out onto a broad cedar deck overlooking the lush green lawn—impressive, considering northeast Texas's brutal summers. In one corner stood a sprawling fifteen-foot pecan tree; in the other, a pool glimmered bright blue, safely fenced off with a black wrought iron gate. Upstairs, the master bathroom was dominated by a long, deep soaking tub that Maple would love at bath time. I fantasized briefly about melting into its soothing hot water myself. I floated through the house in a fog, wondering if this was all real. It seemed too good to be true.

  Grey laid our bags on the bed, then turned to rest his hand on my shoulder. “I'll go get the last few things out of the car. You two just make yourselves at home, okay?”

  I suddenly couldn't trust my voice to stay steady. “Sure,” I muttered, not sure whether that tight note was bitterness or grief or simple exhaustion.

  Grey paused a moment, watching my face, then nodded and went back downstairs. His footsteps on the hardwood faded, leaving me alone with the dark pit in my stomach. The notion of playing house here seemed too ... I didn’t know the word. Presumptuous? Inappropriate?

  This place was almost as spacious and beautiful as Brant's mountain lodge. Grey had obviously done well for himself after quitting the SEALs. My pride twinged. I couldn't deny that this was a better environment for Maple than anything I could have provided on my own.

  My eyes grew misty as I folded our clothes into the dresser and hung them in the closet. I could hear Maple scuffling and giggling as she explored under the bed. Everything was just so unfair. This was the life we should have had. The house I'd bought with Marcus could have been just as nice as Grey's was. It had held all of our hopes and dreams. The big family we'd planned for, the untroubled childhood that Maple deserved. Instead, she got a terrible mother who couldn't take care of her own fucking daughter without handouts. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. And I was starting to fear that I might never be.

  Get a grip, Finley. Having a pity party won't help anyone. I knew I was just feeling sorry for myself. The last few days would shake anyone’s confidence. But those pathetic thoughts kept pouring through my mind like a flash flood, muddy and dangerous and unstoppably fast. I should have tried harder. I hadn't truly done my best. Every small moment of weakness—buying convenience food instead of cooking, sleeping instead of working, letting my fake smile slip while I was on the clock—was another dollar I'd stolen from Maple's future.

  But dear God, I was just so mind-bogglingly tired. None of my struggling and scraping ever seemed to make any progress. Was there even any point of trying to climb out of this hole? Life would just slap me right back down again. Heads, reality wins. Tails, I lose.

  Too late, I heard footsteps stop at the bedroom doorway. “Fin?”

  I quickly glanced out the window, trying to hide my tears while pretending to admire the prairie view. “Y-yeah?”

  Grey didn't buy my calm act for a second. I could hear it in his deep, solemn sigh. But he didn't push me to talk about why I felt so upset; he already knew damn well what was wrong. Instead, he held out his phone and said, “Call the strip club and quit.”

  Shocked, I spun around, forgetting my tear-stained cheeks. “What? Why?”

  “Because you're not going back there.”

  “I can't just—”

  His eyes hardened. But behind them, something almost like fear flickered. “Because it exposed you to low-lifes and creeps without even paying you enough to live on. You can do better.”

  Patronizing prick. I squared my jaw right back at him. “Who says I can? You don't know my life story. In two years of job hunting, that place was the best I ever found. It worked for us. Where else would let me stay at home with Maple during the day?”

  “You can do better,” he repeated simply.

  Taking a deep breath, I balled up every ounce of wounded pride I'd ever felt and threw it in his face. “Not everyone can afford to turn up their noses at perfectly good work.”

  That was kind of a low blow. I didn't give a shit. But apparently, neither did Grey. He just shook his head, still holding out the phone.

  Was he not even going to listen to me anymore? Blood pounding in my ears, I hissed so Maple wouldn't hear, “And what the hell would I do if I did quit? You think unemployment is better than stripping? Safer? More dignified?”

  “I'll help you,” he insisted, his voice rising a little.

  I shook my head savagely. “No way. I might be okay with hiding out here for a little while, but we won't mooch off of you. I'll buy our own food and diapers and pay a fair share of the rest. And I'll need a job to do that.”

  For a long moment, Grey stared at me, searching my eyes. Could he sense my desperation? He had to understand why independence was so important to me. I'd already lost everything else in my life; if I lost this battle, too, I wouldn't even know who I was anymore.

  Finally, he sighed again, yielding ground. “Fine. I understand. I'll work something out.”

  I cocked my head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Like what?” I wasn't about to let him decide some crazy scheme for me.

  He raked his fingers through his short black hair with an exasperated noise. “Fin, please. Do you trust me?”

  I considered for a minute. After the daring rescue he'd just pulled off, I really did. In fact, I had to admit...I might trust him more than anyone else on Earth. Which caused a fresh round of tears to fill my eyes.

  At my reluctant nod, he thrust out the phone again. “Good. Then call the club.”

  I took the phone and dialed. It rang a few times. Then, over a thumping bass line, a familiar brisk voice answered, “Hello, this is the Dolly House. How can I help you?”

  I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Ginger?”

  A moment of stony silence. I would have thought the line had gone dead if it weren't for the music blaring in the background. Maple chose that moment to wriggle out from under the bed, full of curiosity. Grey immediately scooped her up and distracted her with quiet murmurs.

  When Ginger spoke again, her chirpy customer-service tone had vanished into genuine warmth. “Finley? Oh my goodness. I can't tell you what a relief it is to hear from you. When you missed all your shifts—you never miss work, dear—and then that cute soldier came around looking for you, I was so worried. What happened? Was it Brant?”

  “I...” The last thing I wanted to do was relive the past week. “Y-yes, I had some trouble with Brant. But it's all over now.”

  “Oh my goodness,” she gasped again. “What a horrible little man. I should have known he'd do something crazy someday. I just thought you were his favorite, but the way he always hovered around you wasn't healthy—”

  Unable to wait any longer, I broke in. “I'm sorry, Ginger. I'd rather not get into the whole story right now.” Possibly not ever. “The reason I called is...I'm quitting.”

  Silence again. Then a rush of static as Ginger sighed into the receiver. “I see. Well, dear, the girls and I will certainly miss you. Especially Layla.”

  Something oddly like nostalgia twinged in my chest. I'd miss all of them right back. Working at the club hadn't always been a barrel of laughs—to put it mildly—but I had met some great people there.

  “But I'm glad you've moved on to greener pastures,” Ginger continued. “Nobody wants to stay in a place like this forever.” She gave a little cackle. “Except for me, of course. You girls are like family to me. But that's exactly my point. Children are meant to grow up and leave you.”

  I found myself smiling even as I blinked back tears. “Thank you, Ginger. You've always been so wonderful.”

  “It's my job, dear. Take care now.”

  Swallowing hard, I hit the red END icon and handed the phone back to Grey. “I'm done.”

  He nodded soberly. “It'll be okay, I promise.”

  Maple looked back and forth between us, sensing the negative mood, and started squirming for freedom. Grey let her down onto the bed. As I stroked Maple's soft, fine hair, Grey dialed another number. I didn't think too hard about what he was doing until he said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Barton. I was wondering...were we still looking for an administrative assistant?”

  My eyes went wide. “A what now?” I spluttered. “Grey, I'm not trained for—”

  The infuriating asshole actually held up his hand to shush me. “Great. That's perfect. And she can work from home, right?” He paused. “That should be fine. Yes, Mrs. Sutton can start tomorrow. Thank you.” He hung up and raised his eyebrows at me. “There, see? What'd I tell you? You're Redstone's newest employee. You'll have to attend our Friday meetings, but I figured with your new salary, you can afford a babysitter for a couple hours once a week. And you can use my laptop until you can buy your own.”

  I wanted to slap that self-satisfied smirk right off Grey's face. I wanted to kiss him until neither of us could breathe. Instead, I laughed out loud, shaking my head. “You're a real pain in the...the hindquarters, you know that, right?”

  Grey shrugged, still grinning. “I try my best,” he said. “I've got to go into the office for a little while. I probably won't be back in time for dinner. Feel free to order takeout or help yourself to whatever's in the fridge.”

  I nodded. Some time alone would do me good. In fact... “I was thinking me and Maple could go for a swim, if that's okay.”

  “Of course. You guys deserve a little fun. Just make sure you lock all the doors and keep your cell handy.”

  My eyes flitted around the room and my chest tightened again.

  “Hey,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke my cheek. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just overprotective. Now that I have you here ...” His voice went stiff and he paused. “You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

  I believed him. Every last word. And for a person who was normally pretty stoic, I was turning into a fucking waterworks factory. Blinking back tears, I simply nodded.

  * * *

  After I watched his SUV back out into the street and disappear, I dressed myself and Maple in our new swimsuits, fitted a pair of water wings over her arms, and took her downstairs. She ran in clumsy, excited circles around me as I walked out into the backyard and unlatched the pool's gate.

  We sat down to play on the steps of the shallow end. The late summer sun warmed my hair and shoulders as the cool water lapped around my legs. Its chlorine smell reminded me of childhood swimming lessons in the city pool. Just beyond the back fence, I could hear the tall wild grasses rustling in the breeze, like the open range itself was shushing my fears. With a giddy, gap-toothed grin, Maple kicked and slapped at the water, letting out joyful squeals. Her baby giggles were contagious and I found myself smiling and laughing along with her.

  Within half an hour, I felt like a different person. Fun, relaxed, carefree. I wished I could be this version of myself more often. I hated that I'd been so stressed out and angry and tearful for so long. Grey was right—Maple deserved better. And, I realized with sudden clarity, so did I.

 

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