not sure who or what. “I can’t believe it. All these years, he…” I close my mouth and sigh harshly. I place my index finger on his chest and push him against the wall. “Have I been just a job for you?”
I don’t want to sound like an irrational woman, but he knows better.
“You’re more than a duty to me,” he says, his voice wavering, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this frightened. Not even when he’s had a gun pointing at him. “It was just—”
“You lied to me.” I press my finger against his chest.
“By omission because he requested it. If I told you, he’d fire me. I stepped into the role because I couldn’t imagine anyone else watching over you.”
That’s his excuse?
“I don’t know how to feel about this.”
I want to punch him, to shake him because he knows better than to lie to me. Like a bucket of cold water, the truth of why he called it off all those years ago hits me.
“So, if you’re in charge of my safety, we can’t…” I’m so mad at him. How do I even finish that statement?
This strikes me as a betrayal. He knows how I feel about having a bodyguard. He’s my best friend. Which means we understand each other. I know him better than anyone. That thought pushes me to analyze what he just said. He can’t imagine anyone taking better care of me than him. I believe him.
This is what Beacon does best, taking care of those he loves. He also knows that I want to stand on my own. I am more than capable of protecting myself.
“Is this why you said we are better as friends?”
“I had to choose between you and the job, which sounds cold, but really, it wasn’t. I love you too much to let just anyone else be in charge of your safety.”
We stare at each other for several beats without saying a word. I’m not sure if either one of us is breathing. His familiar face is filled with worry. I want to run my hand down his cheek. Assure him that everything is going to be okay. But I also want to break his nose.
“I won’t apologize or regret what I did,” he says without hesitation.
If he’s working for my father and he’s my bodyguard, there’s one rule he can’t break, or he’ll fire him. We can’t be together. My throat clogs. I don’t have any trouble understanding emotions. I have difficulty handling them.
“So, what is this?”
“We’re dating.”
“Until you’re back on duty? Then what’s going to happen?”
“I don’t have all the answers. Don’t you think I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over again?”
I’m not sure where the rage flooding through my veins comes from, but it’s so much I can’t bottle it up. I increase the volume of my voice when I tell him, “You chose the one thing I never wanted over me.”
He’s about to speak, but I cut him off. “I don’t care what you say, Beacon. That’s exactly what you did.”
“Your options were to have a bigger, more intrusive team at your service,” he offers. “Have your family move to New York with you. Or stay at home and go to the local college. Your dad thought about retiring just to keep an eye on you.”
“So, you’re blaming Mom and Dad?”
“No. I…” He exhales loudly. His shoulders slump. “I’m not going to get through to you. You’re pissed at me because it’s easier to take it out on me than your parents. I’ll take the heat.”
“You didn’t let me choose,” I yell.
Maybe he’s right. I’m unloading everything on him. He’s not the only one to blame.
“He wasn’t going to give you a choice, Grace,” he roars. “You know your father.”
“Then what? You took on a job to become his favorite?”
“No. I. Chose. You,” he insists.
“No. You can’t say that everything was done because you loved me.” I exhale, trying to push away the anger. It’s impossible. I’m furious. “So, you left me, chose the job, and then slept your way around?”
“Did I sleep with all those women, Grace?” His voice is harsh. The hurt in his eyes pulls my heartstrings. “If you believe it, well, then I have to pat myself on the back because I’ve done a spectacular job letting people believe I’m a playboy.”
“You’re not a saint,” I retort.
He crosses his arms. “Grace, I think you’re trying to place your anger on the wrong person.”
“I could take care of myself,”