Page 15 of Indie

I pulled away, out of his arms, ripping myself from him. “And how are you going to do that? Even the police couldn’t help me. Neither could the Courts and their restraining orders and injunctions. Nothing stops him!”

My words were sharp. Even I could hear how they cut through this moment of comfort. Indie frowned. A sudden sadness in his eyes. But it wasn’t pity.

“I can stop him, Emmie. I promise you; I can stop him.”

I tilted my head, as if looking at him sideways was going to solve the mystery of Indie.

“How?”

“I just will, Emmie. That’s all you need to know.”

“Unless you’re some sort of mafioso. Unless you can make him an offer he can’t refuse, then I doubt it.”

There was a tick in his jaw as he clamped his teeth together. I’d hurt his feelings, I could tell. He wanted to be a white knight for this weak little girl. He wanted to save somebody. But he couldn’t save me.

“Oh, God.” I squeezed my eyes shut at my own pathetic whimper.

Indie trying to help had just lit a bomb under this whole thing. I tried to hold on to the panic welling in me, building in my stomach, a fuse burning. Oh God. I couldn’t keep Gaz out. He’d forced his way into my house on so many occasions I’d lost count. These days I just let him in. It caused less damage, to my home at least.

“Oh, God.” The words slipped out again.

Indie moved. And I jumped, fear taking hold again. He winced in response, as if my movement hurt him. But he didn’t stop. His arm reaching for me, his hand cupping my face, his palm warm against my cheek. Much too warm. And now everywhere else was warm, too. A fiery tingle of something ignited on my nerve ends.

“Little spuggy,” his voice was a whisper, his thumb tracing a line over my cheekbone. “I can help you. If you let me?”

Let him? I didn’t know what he was asking. He’ll help me report it to the police? Indie read the confusion on my face.

“I can make him go away, Emmie. If you want me too?”

A prick of pain erupted on my lip. At the cut in my flesh, constantly pulled and irritated every time I chewed on it.

“I don’t know what you’re asking, Indie?”

“I’m asking you to let me help you?”

“The police…”

“I’m not talking about the police.” His hand moved back, fingers grazing my scalp, moving my hair, gentle. But in his deep brown eyes was something fierce. Not quite terrifying. Not as terrifying as the thought of Gaz and what he might do next.

“Then what?”

“Just let me help you. I can’t bear the thought of you feeling there’s nothing you can do.”

That was sweet. The nicest thing someone had said to me for a while. For years, even.

“And what would you do, Indie? To help me?”

“Tonight, I’ll keep you safe. Let me come home with you.” I opened my mouth to complain, or in surprise, or shock, but the thumb that had stroked my cheek now placed on my mouth. A tiny bit of pressure and the silencing look of Indie’s eyes on mine. “No, Spuggy. I don’t mean like that. I’ll watch the house for you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

His thumb moved, his fingers stroking back a loose strand of my hair and pushing it behind my ear.

“What? You mean you’ll sit outside? All night? What about sleeping?”

“I don’t need sleep, Emmie. I’ll be fine. But you need to sleep. Desperately. I’ll follow you home. We’ll check your house is secure and then I’ll watch it. I’ll make sure he can’t hurt you.”

But what would happen the next day? And the day after that? Yet I didn’t care. I’d worry about that later. The offer of sleep was more valuable than anything else. I so desperately needed it. And I needed to see my kids without a face full of bruises. Fingers stroked my righthand side.Myfingers. Moving almost unconsciously over my ribs. Tentatively massaging a memory of pain. Indie watched me. A frown on his face. A storm gathering in those perfect brown eyes.

I nodded, fighting the need to wince.