Page 6

6

PENNY

It’s when I’m calm and my heart is quiet and at a peaceful rest that the demon finds me, putting his evil hold on everything he can touch. Images of terror still flutter through my head, like a ghostly incubus trying to bring me down to its nefarious world.

I thought time would heal the wounds that were caused when I was drugged and almost raped. But the more time that passes only makes me doubt my inner strength and, in return, lose hope that I can one day be released from all this subconscious baggage.

The pain from that horrible experience is so deeply rooted in the decisions I make now that I’m starting to wonder if it is now part of my identity.

While staying at Soulful Mind, I toyed with the idea of starting up a relationship. However, my mind could not cope with the uncertainty of whether or not I would get hurt by a man again.

Sure, I flirted with a few of the outside workers who would frequent the center. But I knew deep down that the chance of having an actual connection was unrealistic.

Who will want to be with me, when I flinch at the first signs of intimacy? I’m a freak, and it’s not the good type of freak that men want in bed.

I am jumpy and timid.

While I only had one real sexual encounter before the whole incident with Mark, I’m still very much the awkward girl fumbling around with her hands and her messed-up feelings. I don’t even know what to search for, when I’m too inexperienced to notice when I actually find it.

One thing is for certain; I am desperate to connect in a meaningful way with something—or someone.

Anything.

My heart yearns for a feeling of fullness.

Sure, I have a loving family that continues to grow, but I want more. I need more.

So perhaps if I flood my system with relationship opportunities, I will detox my brain from all of my triggers and be able to function again as a normal, healthy woman in her twenties.

I grab my old journal off my nightstand and double-check the list I created for myself.

I’m tired of being stagnant. I am tired of limiting myself by my past.

Today is a new day—a starting point.

I know I have some baggage to carry, but if I don’t try to move forward, I will forever have the burden of my past on my shoulders.

The problem with not being able to drive is that I’m at the mercy of someone to be available in my life to take me places. I hate relying this heavily on others. If I’m going to be independent, then I need to learn how to drive.

I still can’t believe Graham and Nic bought me a car. It is a big step for them to relinquish this level of control over to me. They must realize how determined I am to start living my own life again.

I go back to the search box and type in “driving lessons,” waiting for Google to present me with some viable options. I click on a few of the top-rated links, jotting down the information for some classes. I already had my permit from passing the written knowledge test a year ago. However, I haven’t really had practice out on the road.

Perhaps I was a late bloomer.

While everyone in high school and college craved the feeling of being behind the wheel, I was too spoiled with my brothers basically hiring a personal driver to tote my ass around town.

It never really bothered me that I wasn’t driving—until now. If I want to keep off my brothers’ radars in every little thing I do, then I need to prove to them that I can handle my own life.

Rolling off my bed, I make my way into the bathroom and start the shower to heat up. I have plans to meet Angie and Claire at the Plus None offices for brunch. It was a last-minute idea that was coordinated the night of my birthday party. Knowing how amazing these women are to me, I couldn’t say no, even though I’m pretty sure I know the nature of this meeting.

I slide out of my pajamas and step under the hot water. Steam billows out around me, making my skin tingle.

I know the girls would love for me to come work with them, but I just am not sure I would be the right fit. I haven’t modeled in a long time, and when I did, I’m not even sure I was good at it. Maybe everyone was just telling me what I wanted to hear in order to manipulate me.

That’s what Mark did.

Or perhaps Angie and Claire feel obligated to include me in the business for the mere fact that I am family.

I don’t need a pity invite. I want to genuinely be considered—and to actually feel like I’m good at it—before accepting any offers.

I crave the rush that comes from being passionate about something and actually miss the invigorating feeling of belonging and having a purpose.

I squeeze strawberry shampoo into my palm, rubbing my hands together vigorously to work up a lather. I massage my hair with the soapy foam, working my scalp.

I can’t believe I’m twenty-two years old. It seems like just yesterday I was so pumped to turn eighteen. Then the thrill of turning twenty-one was lost in the commotion. Now I am a year past that and more excited than ever to face challenges head-on, to take risks, and to prove to myself that I can live again.

I scrub my face with a sugar and honey mixture that I made using a recipe I found online. I’m not that big into organics like Claire is, but there is something special about putting together homemade ingredients. The scrub smells incredible, coupled with the backdrop of strawberries lingering in the air.

After I rinse completely off, I towel myself dry and throw on a skirt and a floral tank. I add some curl gel to my fingers and work it through my hair. I accessorize my outfit with strappy heels, some jewelry, and a pair of sunglasses. By the time I get to Hoffman Headquarters, my hair will be dry and hopefully not a frizzy mess. I wrap a hairband around my wrist just in case.

I exit my room, making my way downstairs to find Momma.

“Good morning, Penny,” she greets with a warm smile. “Well, don’t you look lovely. Going somewhere fun?”

“Hey, Momma. Yeah, I have a brunch date with Angie and Claire at Hoffman Headquarters.”

She gives me a nod, glancing at her phone. “Did you call for a ride yet?”

“No. I was about to.”

“No need,” she says.

“Why…?”

“Because you don’t really need to.”

I curl and uncurl my toes. “But why, Momma?”

She looks down at her phone again. “Because Collins is almost here. Graham just texted me.”

I let out a sigh. Seriously? “Welcome to the start of the micromanaging,” I grumble. “Courtesy of my brothers.”

“You know those two would move heaven and earth for you.”

Guilt stabs at me, forcing my shoulders to slump. “I know that. I just”—I push my wavy hair back over my shoulders—“want to do things my way. Without…”

“Interference?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s been a very rough time when you were gone, Penny. We are all still adjusting. Some of us just have a different way of dealing with the pain of wondering what if. So, please give your brothers some prevenient grace. They know you are unable to drive right now, and in the meantime, they have Collins available to give you a lift.”

“I guess I should thank Graham for the ride.” I try to leave the sarcasm out of my tone, but it seeps in anyway.

Momma smiles. “Seems fair.”

“While we are on the topic of my independence, I found a place.”

“Seems rushed, yeah?”

I shrug. “The opportunity presented itself to me.” It’s a bit of a lie, because I specifically hunted down this particular opportunity. Regardless, I think this will be an amazing move.

Momma shifts her weight to her other foot and leans her hip against the counter. “Penny, I hope you know that you can live here forever.”

That’s exactly why I need to move out .

It’s the safety net that sometimes feels stifling. “I know. I appreciate that too. But I need to be in the city. I’ve been gone from Portland too long and I miss it.”

“Your father and I have saved up money so you?—”

“Momma…”

She holds her hands up in defense. “Okay, fine. But just know that if you need help,” she says, giving me a pitiful smile, “you can ask us. Always. And if this place is a hot mess, you don’t have to keep living there. You always have a home here.”

I take a step closer and wrap my arms around her back. “You are the best momma on the planet. You know that, right?”

I feel the vibrations from her trembling and know that she is trying to hide her tears. “I just want you”—she sniffles—“to have a good life.”

“And I will. It feels like I got a second chance at life, and I’m not blowing it on being afraid to fly.”

So maybe paying Graham and Nic a visit today while I’m at the office will help set them straight on their priorities. It may take multiple reminders, but surely they can understand my desires.

I pull back from Momma, and she turns her head to hide her tears. I think she’s afraid she will break me, and that alone should be reason enough to need to move out. I can’t be under the same roof as her and walk around trying not to make her cry. I won’t be able to live like that. She needs the separation as well, even though she’ll never admit it.

“Momma, I appreciate you. Please don’t cry. I love you with all my heart. I’m going to be okay. I promise. And if I slip back into a bad state, I know the signs and what to do about it. Please trust me.”

She offers me a weak smile, and I mirror one back. “As long as you know that you can always come home, then I will let you leave.”

Donna Hoffman is basically my favorite human. I can only hope to grow into the woman she has become.

I gather up my belongings and slip out the front door, only to find Collins leaning against the black SUV. I’m still getting used to seeing him so casual, but I’d be lying if I said he didn’t look good doing it.

Like the leaning, for example…

The man isn’t a leaner. He is a poker straight spine type of man.

Yet just looking at his strong body resting against the vehicle is doing things to me.

It’s simple.

It’s also unexpected.

Collins takes his shades off his eyes, propping them onto the crown of his head. My eyes scan up his jean-covered legs, all the way up to his black buttoned shirt, where his sleeves are cuffed up and situated comfortably at his elbows. He is either off duty or my brothers have released him of the strict dress code. Either way, I approve.

Dayum. I really approve.

We are in the thick of the summer, and he doesn’t look like he is breaking a sweat.

I’d like to think I made my ogle-fest less obvious than what it probably was. At least Collins doesn’t make it known. He’s probably used to women giving him the once-over.

Men as attractive as he is can’t get to his stage in life and be oblivious to it.

“Miss Hoffman,” he greets with a downward nod.

“Mr. Stone,” I counter back sassily, with a fake curtsy.

He gives me a smile. Also rare. What is going on?

Collins straightens his posture, rounds his shoulders, and opens the back door for me to enter. I sidestep him and open the door to the front passenger seat, sliding in. I snap on my belt, snickering to myself, as Collins shuts the back door and circles the front of the vehicle. I can see a smirk playing on his lips, and it does something to my insides to see him so confident and in his element.

Sure, at the pool party he was in casual attire. However, there is something about seeing him today that is intentionally different.

And dare I say, devastatingly handsome?

Not in the conventional sense, though. No, Collins is rugged, yet sophisticated. I just can’t figure him out at the core, and part of me wishes that I could pull back the layers one by one to see the real him.

Collins takes his place behind the wheel. “How are you today, Miss Hoffman?” he asks politely.

I can tell he wants to say more, but the man never uses more words than what are deemed necessary. He literally just saw me at my birthday party where we were laughing and having chicken fights in the pool. He also got me the most amazingly thoughtful gift—that I’m still in shock over. Now, he is calling me Miss Hoffman like we aren’t even becoming friends? Why all of a sudden is he trying to act over-the-top professional?

Holy shit.

And then it dawns on me.

Unbelievable.

Collins is here more than just to tote my butt around the town. I suspected as much when I saw my brothers talking with him at the party. I just never really thought they would stick their right-hand man on me when they each have their own women to protect.

I haven’t even done anything bad yet, so why provide this assignment for your most valuable employee?

Are they still angry over me going to the prison?

Maybe I should have called someone else to give me a lift from there.

I glance back toward the house and then to Collins, who is looking at me expectantly while we sit in silence, not moving.

“Everything alright, Miss Hoffman?”

“No.”

His eyes soften, as his eyes scan over my body. “What’s wrong? Are you ill? Can I get you anything, Miss Hoffman?”

Every time he says my name the way he does, anger simmers inside me. Is he trying to make me boil over and snap? If so, it’s going to happen.

“Nope. I’ll be better though if you cut the formalities and simply call me Penny. You know, the name you called me at my birthday…”

I cross my arms at my chest as I study him. At the party, he even called me the shortened version of my name—Pen.

But today he’s in ultraprofessional mode.

And I don’t like it, not one bit.

“Understood.”

“Unless, of course, you want to admit that my brothers hired you to watch out for me. Which, by the way, is not far-fetched considering how many times you were assigned to both Angie and Claire. Oh, and also by the way, I am doing things on my own this go-round, so it best be remembered that giving tabs back to my brothers is just”—I shudder as I make a disgusted face—“gross.”

“Breathe, Penny.”

I shoot him a glare that translates to shut it , but I do take a deep breath.

The last thing my brothers need to know about is my dating life—or my sex life. I’ve been officially off the market long enough. Maybe taking a dip in the dating pool is what I need to challenge both myself and my brothers. If they can succeed at allowing me some liberties, I’ll be more accepting of the other little gestures they so frequently make.

But apparently they already made a gesture—a big one—by downright hiring Collins to do their bidding.

Collins starts the engine, readjusts his shades that rest on his forehead, and then shifts in his seat to give me a thorough look. Every inch of territory he covers with the attention of his gaze causes me to wilt slightly. He, too, seems to be studying me. I don’t like it. It makes me feel vulnerable and under a microscope, and I spent the better part of a year feeling those same exact emotions.

I sigh. “Listen. You can’t intimidate me.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“I’m super resourceful and capable of slipping away from anyone trying to snuff out my first taste of freedom.”

“I’m aware,” he says simply.

“I know you are hired to follow me around. I get it. Graham and Nic need some type of assurance that I’m safe. But what you all don’t understand is the utter devastation I face every time I wake up and realize it is a new day. Another day in my life that is wasted. I’m done wasting time, Collins. Call it a life crisis if you will, but I am done going through the motions of a day, just to sleep and wake up, and then do it all again.” My shoulders slump forward. “I want to feel alive. I am going to take some risks to find myself again—wherever she may be hiding.”

Understanding hits Collins’s eyes, and the tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders releases, causing me to melt into my seat. I close my eyes to collect myself, waiting for the taciturn man to say something— anything —to confirm what I think I’m witnessing in his demeanor.

Nothing.

He says nothing.

Not a word. Not a hum. Not a sound.

When I cannot take any more silence, I turn to face Collins—who has yet to pull out of the driveway—and break down.

It surprises even me.

“Oh, Penny,” he says, reaching for my hand to squeeze.

I bite my lip between my top teeth as pangs of guilt hit me all at once. He is just trying to help—to do his job. And here I sit on some invisible self-appointed throne acting entitled, spewing my rant like some privileged rich teen. I’m not a kid anymore, yet I sure have been acting like one.

I did it with my momma and now I’m doing it with Collins.

“Don’t cry. Please.”

His touch feels so different.

It’s like we aren’t supposed to cross some emotional boundary, and yet he did so without thought.

“I’m being a brat. I know I am. I just don’t know what has come over me. I’m acting cra—” I shudder at the thought of the implication of the word I was about to say. I’m acting like I am. I just can’t bring myself to complete the second syllable and make it feel real.

Crazy.

It’s a one-word accurate representation of my latest mood swings.

“You’ve been nothing but good to me and my family, and here I am just ranting and raging and I regret it. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

“It’s just that you came to my birthday party and gave me the most thoughtful gifts, and while I would love to think that you did that all on your own, I’m nearly positive my brothers are micromanaging every move you make and have basically hired you to shadow me. It makes me feel claustrophobic, and I hate feeling caged in. They probably even wrapped up the package and forced your hand to give it to me, if just to appear friendly. Normal. Yet nothing about the life of being the youngest Hoffman is normal.”

“It was my idea,” Collins says with sincerity.

“Huh?”

“The gifts. They were all from me.” His eyes soften to a shade that is the color of melted caramel. “I completely understand why you would think otherwise, so no harm done.”

My level of paranoia must be strong because I even accused Angie and Claire of using my brothers’ spy tactics to know I was interested in ice skating. “What about the rest?” I press further. The idea of not knowing what my brothers are up to will just make me more probable of doing something risky to avoid their watchful eyes.

“Yes, I’m assigned to watch out for you.”

“I knew it,” I snarl, tossing my hands up into the air. The car feels suddenly smaller with the tension simmering between us. I want to be mad at Collins, but who I really am mad at are my brothers. The least they could have done was consult with me.

Collins holds his hands up in defense. “I’m not going to interfere with your life nor share details back that are not appropriate. Trust that I can keep an eye on you but still let you accomplish your goals.”

Well, he hasn’t seen them—and won’t see them. Some are a bit spicy…

“Did they assign you to me because I visited Mark?”

“You won’t be doing that again whether I’m your guard or not. Do you understand?”

I shrink back in my seat at his stern authority. “Got it.”

Collins lets out a sigh. “We can even work together.”

“Together?”

“Form an alliance.” He shrugs, eyeing me carefully. “A partnership, if you will.”

“That seems counterproductive, don’t you think?” I furrow my brow. “I’m sure that will probably break some major code in the professional bodyguard conduct book that my overbearing brothers probably made you sign. Why are you smirking? I’m being serious. This is my life.”

“I’m not going to break any rules, Penny.”

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure my brothers wanted this whole assignment to be secret from me.”

“You are smart, Penny. I never expected you not to figure it out. Albeit, I thought I had more time to get you on board before you try to derail me.” He glances at the time. “I made it a solid seven minutes before you called me out.”

I don’t even know what to think. Although I knew my brothers would have some type of watch, I never expected them to be this blatant about it. Collins can’t possibly understand my needs right now, especially since I’m still struggling myself with where to channel all of my energy.

This is not how I expected my morning to go. Not at all. I can feel my breathing pick up, and I say a silent prayer that I won’t have a panic attack—at least not here.

When I’m alone in the confines of my bedroom is one thing, but to have an audience always makes things awkward.

“I’m simply asking you to comply with the normal safety protocols that your brothers will want in place.”

I think about Collins’s words, mulling the idea around in my head. I don’t know what to say. I can tell he is struggling with how to handle me, and maybe he deserves some of my grace. But I don’t even know how to cope with this confession on his part. I just need some time and space to manage my emotions.

After several long minutes, Collins grips the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Maybe he’s mad I’m not talking. I mean, what is there to say?

All of the humor I once saw on his features has now vanished, making me wonder if I imagined it there in the first place. “Maybe your brothers went about this the wrong way by not consulting with you first.”

“You think?”

Collins purses his lips as he pulls out of the driveway. “I need to keep you safe, Penny. That’s not up for negotiation.”

“Safe from what?” When he doesn’t answer, I connect the dots. “Oh, myself.” I allow that thought to sit with me. “Is it because everyone is worried I’ll make bad choices?” Again more silence. “You do realize that every nonanswer is an answer, right?”

Collins sighs. “Let’s come to some understanding so neither of our lives are made difficult.”

“Can you at least provide me with some examples of the safety protocols you want to put in place so I can yay or nay? Because right now, Collins, my mind is thinking of tracking devices, prison style ankle bracelets, and other archaic methods.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t thinking of ankle bracelets before, but that is a really good idea.”

My eyes jerk to his, which are looking at the road. “You cannot be serious.”

A laugh escapes his lips, and it is so unexpected I burst into giggles as well.

“Background checks,” he supplies, his voice unwavering.

“Can you be more specific?”

“I’ll need to run them on anyone you decide to share close contact with.” His words come out gruff, and the raspiness does something to me that I cannot put into words.

“Anything else?”

“There will be a security system install or upgrade.”

I glance out the window as we leave Hillsboro, heading toward the city. “Fair enough. Anything else?”

“My”—he clears his throat—“duties evolve depending on the threats.”

I turn to look at him, despite his eyes staying forward on the road. “Maybe there will be no threats. Did that ever cross your mind?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Except it is.”

Collins lets out an exaggerated breath. “I’m just following through on a job I was assigned.”

I growl. Mark Tanner threatened me, but that psycho just wanted to get under my skin. All of the bad guys are locked up and going to spend the rest of their miserable lives behind bars. “Maybe my life will be completely boring and your position will be”—I sweep out my hand, catching his attention—“discontinued.”

“If it helps you to think like that, go for it.”

I should be happy that Collins isn’t filling the silence with more silence. That’s what he does, though. He avoids talking. So, since he has shared with me more than I ever expected, I should be thankful. Relieved, even. But I’m not. I’m anxious and on edge.

Knowledge isn’t power at all. It is fuel for my anxiety.

Collins sharing the behind-the-scenes arrangement wasn’t for my benefit. No, it was for his. Maybe he thinks that if I know the basic plan, then I’ll submit and let everything run smoothly with his position.

Too bad. I’m done following the rules. I’m done having people tell me when to eat, what to eat, or how much to eat. I’m done with curfews and bedtimes. I’m done with safety checks and drills throughout the day. I’m done with having a gatekeeper.

Everyone can think I am the youngest Hoffman princess. However, no one is going to come between me and my goal list—not even the broody bodyguard that is stewing beside me, probably working himself into a tizzy. I can already tell he is conjuring up some epic plan to derail me.

Problem is, my liberation plan is better.