Page 89 of Duty Devoted

Finally, I typed:

Different. Not good.

Give her time. She’s been through a lot.

I’d already cost her two months. Two months of silence that had let her believe she’d been nothing more than convenient comfort in a crisis. But what choice did I have but to give her more time? Scream through the door?

When I finished my assessment, I found her at the dining room table, surrounded by files. She looked up as I approached, expression carefully blank.

“Get what you need?”

“I’ll have a full report tomorrow. Installation can start whenever you’re ready.”

“The sooner, the better.” She closed the file she’d been reading. “My parents will want this handled quickly.”

“What do you want?”

Surprise flickered across her features—quick as a blink—that anyone was asking her preference.

“I want to stop jumping at shadows,” she said quietly. “I want to stop checking my rearview mirror twenty times on the way home. I want…”

She shook her head, thought abandoned.

“What?” I pressed. “What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She stood, gathering her files. “I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow until six. You can coordinate with building maintenance for access.”

“Lauren—”

“Thank you for doing this.” Formal words, formal tone. “I’m sure your security recommendations will be thorough.”

She was dismissing me. Professional courtesy, nothing more. With anybody else, I’d welcome it. Not wanting to talk, not wanting to be my friend, not wanting anything from me except the job I’d been hired to do.

I headed for the door, then stopped. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About the mugging. About…everything.”

“Like I said, you don’t owe me an apology.” She studied her files instead of me. “Sometimes things just don’t work out. That’s life.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow to escort you to work.”

I left because staying would mean saying things she wasn’t ready to hear. Things I wasn’t sure I had the right to say anymore.

But as the elevator descended, one certainty crystallized—I was exactly where I needed to be. For the first time in two months, the constant noise in my head had quieted. No more calculating distances to the next deployment. No more running from the memory of her skin beneath my hands.

Just this simple fact: Lauren needed protection, and I’d be the one to provide it.

Everything else—the apologies, the explanations, the desperate need to fix what I’d broken—would have to wait. She wasn’t ready. Hell, maybe she’d never be ready.

It didn’t matter. I’d take whatever she was willing to give, even if that was nothing more than professional tolerance. Because the alternative—letting anyone else stand between her and danger—was unacceptable.

For now, being near her was enough. Making sure she was safe was enough.

Even if she never forgave me. Even if this careful dance was all we’d ever have.

I was done running. Whatever came next, I’d face it here, where I should have been all along.

Chapter 27

Lauren