Page 47 of Silas

I button the shirt over my bare chest and look in the mirror. It’s obvious, but perhaps only because I’m looking. And, if I’m being honest, I’d rather not wear a bra at all than wear that one for one more second.

It just feels…weird to not have a bra on in public. Forbidden, somehow. Immodest, even though I’m fully covered.

I turn in place and face the woman. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, piffle.” She smiles at me. “Now, go forth and woo that handsome young man of yours, my dear.”

“I’m…I don’t know anything about wooing, but thank you.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Naomi.”

“Linda.” She embraces me and then pulls away, holding onto my shoulders and giving me a serious, stern look. “I don’t know what all you’ve been through, my dear, but it’s obviously been a lot. You listen to me, now. You choose you, Naomi. Don’t let anyone, not even your hunky rescuer out there, tell you what to do with your life. In the big things and the little things, and everything in between. Understand?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, right? I have to finish my shopping, now.”

We hug again, and Linda returns to her cart and trundles away, humming happily to herself.

Silas is standing with his feet planted wide, one hand in his pocket and the other with his smartphone held to his face. He sees me emerge from the fitting room and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

I hand him the three bras, holding the old one in one hand. “Amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t really explain how it felt to have a bra that fits properly and doesn’t poke me.”

“Poke you?”

I show him where the underwire protrudes. “This part is always poking me.” I gesture at my chest. “That’s the only bra I’ve had for…oh my goodness, years.”

“Not right. It’s just not right.” He shakes his head. “Well, you can toss that one out. Now you pick out some underwear while we’re in this section, and then shoes.”

The underwear is easy enough, and I pick a couple of packages of basic panties, but Silas has other ideas, and convinces me to choose some fancier ones. By the time we leave the undergarments section, Silas’s load is nearly comical.

“We should have gotten a cart,” Silas grumbles, with a laugh.

“Wait here, I’ll get one,” I say.

I retrieve a cart from the corral near the front door and happen to glance outside—just in time to catch a flash of red, big tires, an antennae whip. It’s gone before I can get a good look to be sure it’s him, but it sure didlooklike Papa’s truck.

Panic sets my pulse to racing, and I have to force myself to move. And then, once I’m in motion, I have to stop myself from running across Walmart to get to Silas’s side. When I reach him, he tosses the stack of garments into the cart, glancing at me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He moves around the cart and tucks me against his side, arm cradling me close, sheltering me against his bulky frame.

It’s like breathing, pressing my face into his chest and inhaling his scent, resting my palm on his stomach, shuddering as fear claws down my spine.

“I think I saw my father’s truck.”

“Well, if you did, I’ll handle it.” He touches his index and middle fingers under my chin, tilting my face to his. “No one will ever hurt you again. You believe me?”

“Yes, Silas. I believe you.”

“You just saying that ‘cause you think it’s what I want to hear?” His tone makes it sound like he’s scolding me, but the hint of humor in his eyes says otherwise.

“Maybe a little bit,” I admit. “My father can be very frightening. He’s a very violent man.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but so am I.” His hand curls around my nape, and he touches his forehead to mine. “Difference is, the only violence you’ll ever see outta me is if I’m protecting you.” He smiles at me, confident and reassuring. “You believethat?”