Page 144 of Protecting What's Mine

He took one look at her on the sidewalk outside the airport and produced a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol from his bag.

“You’re never going back there,” he said simply.

“No, I am not,” she agreed.

Fifteen hours after she’d flown out, feeling hopeful, Mack was back with no hope. Only pain.

She was an idiot.

And a coward.

She didn’t turn on the lights in her house, not wanting to alert Linc to the fact that she was home early.

How in the hell was she going to tell him what had happened? It wasn’t like she could avoid him until the bruises faded, until the hurt healed.

But the thought of him knowing what she came from, what she was made of, sickened her.

Wearily, she left her suitcase inside the door and flopped face down on the couch. Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans.

She pulled it out and finally checked her messages. Linc had responded to her text earlier that afternoon. Then he’d sent a picture of Sunshine looking happy with a glittery blue tongue with a sign that said, “I ate a bottle of glitter, and now my poop sparkles!”

Linc: How’s it going? Miss me? Want me to fly out?

Linc: Did you talk to your guests about Thanksgiving? I mentioned it to my sisters, and they got Chihuahua-on-a-sugar-high excited.

Linc: I’m getting worried, Dreamy. Do you need anything?

Linc: Call me.

And then there was the most recent.

Linc: What the fuck, Mackenzie? Where are you?

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t pick up the phone and call him or walk out into the backyard and knock on his door. She couldn’t put him in the same conversation as her family. He’d never look at her the same.

Feeling sore and sorry for herself, she powered down her phone and dragged herself upstairs and fell into a fitful sleep.

SHE WOKE AT DAWN.Still hurting. But now there was an empty ache gnawing away in her chest. She’d worried Linc needlessly. That was unfair, immature.

Rolling over, she reached for her phone.

There were more than a dozen new messages from Linc.

Still not ready for actual conversation, Mack chickened out with a text.

Mack: Sorry for the radio silence. I’m safe. I’ll talk to you later.

Her phone rang in her hand a second after the text sent.

“Linc,” she sighed.

“What the fuck is going on, Mackenzie?” he demanded.

“Look, something came up. I got busy. I’m not required to check in with you constantly,” she said defensively. And in that moment, she hated herself.

“That’s bullshit. You flying home early from a trip and holing up in your house without telling me is bullshit.”

“Russell told you?”