Page 32

31

THE PROTECTOR

I fell asleep, and when I woke up, Jamie had left, he’d left a note saying that he’d gone for a jog.

They say confessing your past makes you feel better, but with Jamie’s cold exterior, I don’t know if telling me about his past made him feel better or worse?

He’s so hard to read.

I do know one thing, a lot of what he said makes sense, for instance why he and his brother are so alike on the outside, but completely different on the inside.

Jamie was the face of both of them. The one who did well in school and had a better life, to not let their mother down after all her sacrifices. I wonder if she knew how much she damaged them as a result of her decision.

Something’s are taken to the grave, I know because I feel the same way about my aunt. There’s so many what if’s that if I think about them all, they will drive me insane.

Or rather they have done, which is why I always end up on a therapist chair even if it’s the last place on Earth I should go back to.

The smell of coffee drifts through the cabin, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of my thoughts. I’m still trying to piece myself back together, but every time I think I’m doing okay, I remember Jamie’s brother is gone. Somehow, the grief doesn’t feel like my own anymore. It feels like it’s ours—his and mine. We’re both drowning in it, but he hides it better.

I can’t.

I’m too weak, too fragile from all the medication in my system and I’ve been scared and unsure so many times in the last couple of weeks, sometimes I feel as if my mind isn’t completely right as if pieces of it are still missing.

I glance toward the kitchen. Jamie’s in there, hot and sweaty from his morning run. I want to go in and give myself to him. One moment, I feel such intense lust, like I could strip bare and serve myself on a silver platter. The next, I see his confusion about his true identity—a weakness I never thought a man like him could possess, and all I want is to comfort him.

His back is to me as he’s either preparing something or whatever he’s doing on the counter I can’t see. It has taken me forty minutes longer than my usual twenty minutes in the morning to get ready. I made sure I put on a dress. It may seem silly, but I wanted to look nice and there was a bright yellow dress in which Noah had bought for me. I used to love wearing that color, it always made me smile. I tied my hair up, in a loose bun and put on a bit of makeup. Noah let me buy these things on our way here.

I like how I look today. I just hope that he does too.

“Morning,” I chirp.

Then I head to the fridge and start making breakfast casually, but then my hands are shaking, because I feel Jamie’s presence behind me. But he hasn’t said a word, or even acknowledged my presence.

He doesn’t say anything as he moves toward the bathroom, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. I can hear the creak of the door as he slams it shut behind him. It feels like a door closing between us, and the emptiness fills the space.

I move toward the door to hear, the water from the shower running, and I close my eyes. The sound of the water drowns out everything else, but it doesn’t make the silence go away.

“Stupid me,” I mutter as I head back to the kitchen.

I thought the man who rescued me from the asylum wanted me, but he only sees me as another victim.

I head back there to make breakfast as I try to hold back the tears, because my hands start to tremble. Silly me. I realize, as I know nothing about the opposite sex or even my own sex. I don’t know how to make friends, let alone how to flirt with a man and the more I think about it, I’m not sure if this is the man I should be using my lack of flirting skills on.

His brother died trying to save me.

Did I put on the make-up and dress, and think that we’re going to ride into the sunshine together and live happily ever after, when there’s some man trying to kill me.

I head to my room to take the dress off and the stupid idea I had earlier today, when I hear Jamie’s voice muffled through the bathroom door, the frustration in his tone making my chest tighten.

What happened to him?

The water shuts off, and I hold my breath.

The door to the bathroom swings open, and I don’t turn around. I can feel his presence like a storm cloud hanging over me. When he speaks, his voice is rough, like he’s been holding something back. We lock eyes for a split second.

I think for some reason he’ll smile and tell me I look pretty or something but he avoids my stare and walks past me. Then he pauses for a second and I think maybe he regrets his actions.

“I’ve got to go to the sheriff’s office,” he says. It’s not a question. It’s just a statement.

“Don’t leave me alone,” I whisper, my voice breaking before I can even stop it. “Please. I can’t be alone.”

I walk in front of him to face him, and when I do, my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and there’s a heaviness to his gaze that makes me feel like I’m falling into a deep, endless hole.

He stares at me for a long moment, and for a second, I think he’s going to walk out without another word, but then, he goes back into the bathroom and gets something from one of the closets and gives it to me.

My heart skips a beat, and I catch it instinctively—cold metal, smooth and foreign in my hand.

It’s a gun.

I look at it, then back up at him. “Jamie… what is this?”

Even though I know the answer to my own question.

“D you know how to use it?” he asks, his voice flat, almost cold.

I stare at the gun, my hands trembling as I try to steady myself. The thought of actually having to use it terrifies me. It’s one thing buying it, using fake targets and learning how to shoot someone. This is all a gun is used for. A weapon to hurt someone or even worse to kill them. I’m not so confident about using it, as I had been before.But something in his eyes—something dark, something desperate—tells me that I better just tell him the truth. He’s a man not be messed around with, and in a way after all the false messages I seem to have given myself maybe him leaving is a good thing

I look at him, swallowing the fear that’s rising in my throat. “Yes,” I say, but my voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze fixed on me, and I wonder if he’ll see right through me. I need him to stay. I want him to tell me more about his past and trust in me. He expects the same from me, he knows everything about me, and I know nothing about him.

“Who else knows about you and your brother?” I ask.

“Noah. Frank. My brother. Mom and you.”

I have no idea who Frank is, but two of the people he has mentioned are dead, so that leaves Noah and I.

“So Noah knows how you both shared the same identity?” I quiz.

“What does this have to do with anything?” He snaps.

I shake my head, the words sticking in my throat. I want to tell him that I’m scared. It’s as if I’m falling apart, piece by piece, but I don’t say anything. I just stare at the gun in my hand, feeling the weight of it, and his annoyance after telling me about his past.

He didn’t mention a wife, girlfriend or a lover.

He added me to the list of people who know, and the list wasn’t long. I don’t know how long I’m standing frozen, because the next thing I know Jamie is in front of me again, he’s fully dressed and ready to leave.

“I can teach you how to make an escape plan. We can make sure we’re ready for anything,” he says.

I don’t know if I can stop pretending, and just tell him the truth. I'm falling apart, and he’s the first man in which I’ve even had a conversation with who isn’t part of my aunt’s case. Sure, Noah was nice. He seemed like the kind of person I could be a friend with, but Jamie is different. I feel protected and afraid of him at the same time, there’s something which draws me to him and away at the same time. I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak.

“Okay,” I say, my voice barely audible.

Jamie watches me for a moment longer, then turns toward the door. He starts talking about the places I can hide, and my back up plan if anyone else comes to the cabin apart from him or Noah.

He runs me through the times, but I’m too distracted. Jamie’s talking, but he’s not looking at me the same way as he did last night.

He’s holding back, because when I touch him, he acts as if my hand is on fire and it could burn him.

His brother died and the killer is out there. There’s no room for distractions, no matter how much my heart aches for something more from this man.