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She jerked back. It wasn’t just that it was Fenton’s touch. It could have been anyone. After Warren’s failed attempt to kidnap or kill her, any man—or woman—putting their hands on her made her flinch. Even if Keaton were to come up behind her without warning, she figured she’d do one of two things.
Clock him.
Or curl up in a ball and cry like a baby.
“What can I do for you? What do you need? Do you want to come stay with me?” Fenton asked with a smile. He did have a nice smile. That’s what had initially attracted her to him. “I have plenty of room. It would be no problem, and it might be exactly what you need.”
She opened her mouth, but no words tumbled out.
Keaton pressed his hand on her good shoulder. “Shewon’t be staying with you,” he said in a gruff voice. “Now, if you will excuse us.”
Fenton rose.
He was a tall man. Maybe six-one, which gave him at least one, if not two, inches on Keaton. But Fenton didn’t have the muscles Keaton had. Nor did he have that badass, don’t mess with me look. It was a subtle look, and Keaton didn’t give off that vibe very often.
When he did, even a rock would shudder.
Fenton didn’t quake in his boots. All he did was look Keaton up and down. “I’m pretty sure Trinity knows how to speak for herself.”
Keaton laughed. “Oh, I know.” He squeezed her shoulder, rubbing his thumb on her exposed skin near her neck. It was soft, tender, kind…loving even. He turned, catching her gaze. “Babe, can I tell him to go screw himself, or shall you?”
Why the hell had she ever told him about Fenton’s extracurricular activities?
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Fenton inched closer.
So did the orderly.
Her heart continued to pound in her throat. But she couldn’t let them beat the crap out of each other, and while she knew Keaton deep down was a sweet man, he’d toss the first punch. She’d seen that at Massey’s one night when some asshole had relentlessly put his hands on a young girl.
“I will be your worst nightmare if you don’t leave,” Keaton said.
She cleared her throat, finding her voice. “Please stop arguing,” she said softly.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Fenton didn’t shift his gaze.
But Keaton did, and he gave her an apologetic smile, but then he shifted back to Fenton and widened his stance.
Wonderful.
“Fenton,” she whispered. “Go home. I’m fine.”
“I will not go home, and you are not fine.” Fenton planted his hands on his hips and glared at her with daggers shooting from his eyes. “Who is going to take care of you?”
“I am,” Keaton said.
The orderly leaned in. “Shall I call security, sir?”
“Not yet,” Keaton grumbled.
Trinity rubbed her temple. She didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with this crap. Fenton was a royal pain in her ass. He’d never wanted to break up. He denied he’d been cheating. Of course, it had been difficult to prove simply because she’d never caught him. All she had were a few strange texts. Some sexual emails from an address she hadn’t recognized, a couple of weird, random voice messages, and an odd earring in his vehicle. But nothing concrete, and he’d explained it all away.
However, once she’d overheard him talking to a buddy about how he’d been banging the boss’s daughter, how he was close to being the heir to it all. Well, that had been the end of them.
Audra, Baily, and the guys were right. She’d been toonice to Fenton when she’d dumped him, which was why he kept coming around.
Her chest heaved up and down. Her breath came in short pants. Her blood roared in her ears. It had been a long time since she’d feared telling anyone what she thought. It was as if she were transported back to being sixteen, when all she’d cared about was being accepted.
She still wanted that, but today, it was different, and she wouldn’t sit there and be silenced.