Page 27 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)

I draw back. “Are you sure I’m the one who hit my head and not you?

Whether the creep bodyguard is Butterfly Man or not, maybe that would have been the easy way to do it, but if we tell the detective the truth and he turns out to be just that, a detective, what do you think he’s going to do with the crimes we voluntarily confess to him?

He’ll slap our wrists and tell us not to do it again? Are you crazy?”

He just stares at me. He must know I have a point.

“ Besides , we can’t rule out the possibility that Butterfly Man is neither of them, not yet,” I add.

“We must go to Florida. You have Blake’s trail to follow from the prison in Jacksonville that will lead you to where he’s hiding his app to destroy it, and I must stall Butterfly Man in Miami until you do. ”

His jaw tightens as he pulls away from me. The warmth that had been in his eyes moments ago hardens. “You still want to offer yourself as bait. After everything that’s happened.” His voice is controlled, but the fury building beneath the surface isn’t hard to miss.

“We don’t have another choice. You know that.”

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair.

“No. What I know is that you collapsed in the woods today. What I know is that you’re having such vivid hallucinations that you can’t distinguish between reality and your own fears.

” His eyes pierce mine. “What I know is that you’re in no condition to face anyone, let alone the man who’s been tormenting you for months. ”

“Tristan—”

“But I also know that every minute you’re away from me is dangerous. I promised I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.” He nods to himself. “You’re coming with me.”

I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”

“But you’re not posting that video or meeting your stalker.”

And just like that, the relief slips away. “But—”

“No buts. I’m not gonna stand by and watch you walk into danger. Not again.” He turns off the light and moves toward the door. “Get some sleep. We leave first thing in the morning.”

With Tristan halfway out of the door, as the last flicker of light fades, panic surges through me at the thought of being alone in the darkness again. “Wait!” I call out, my voice breaking. “Don’t leave. Please.”

He pauses, hand on the doorknob, his back to me.

“I’m scared…of being alone tonight. Of what I might see when I close my eyes,” I whisper, hating the weakness in my voice, but I don’t care. “Would you stay with me tonight? Even if you can just sit in the chair until I fall asleep.”

For what feels like an eternity, he remains frozen, silhouetted in the doorway. Then, without a word, he closes the door and turns back to the room. He doesn’t move toward the chair. Instead, he walks to the bed.

“Scoot over,” he commands.

I blink, surprised by his directness. “Really?”

“I’ve been sitting for hours in that chair. My neck is still sore from watching over you all night. And I meant what I said about not letting you out of my sight.”

A smile sneaks up on me as I slide over, making room. “Of course.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, his back to me, and removes his shoes methodically. The mattress dips as he stretches out beside me, keeping a careful distance between us. He places his gun on the nightstand, within easy reach.

He lies rigid, staring up at the ceiling. Even in the darkness, the tension radiating from his body is palpable.

“Who else can have access to that footage from the GPS camera?” I ask.

“No one but me. Don’t worry. I’ve already deleted the part when we had our heart-to-heart chat. Do you want to see for yourself?”

“I don’t need to. You always have my back.”

“Good to know that you can finally trust me, at least when it comes to protecting you.”

“I know you’re furious with me,” I say quietly.

“I’m not furious.” His head shifts toward me. “I’m terrified.”

The admission catches me off guard. Tristan has never been one to acknowledge fear.

“Does that shock you, that you can make me feel afraid?”

Yes. But I don’t say it. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say.

He stares back at the ceiling. “You have your way of bringing out the worst of me.”

“I didn’t mean to fall and cause all that panic.” I was running from my stalker, or so I thought. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t.” The command is clipped, harsh. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but, for the love of God, you can’t put yourself in danger again.

” He rolls on his side, and his breath fans my face.

“When I saw you fall… When I couldn’t wake you up.

.. I’ve watched men die, many by my hand.

But seeing you lying there, blood on your face, not knowing if you’d open your eyes again—” He cuts himself off.

“Tristan—”

“I can’t lose you.” The words rush out, violent in their intensity. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” he continues after a long pause. “I’ve lost everything that mattered to me once before. I won’t go through that again.”

My heart stutters. This isn’t just about the job anymore or his promise to protect me. This is something deeper, something neither of us has dared to name or voice.

His eyes find mine in the darkness. The walls are down, and my breath catches at what I see.

Slowly, deliberately, he breaks the invisible barriers he’s set between us and reaches across the void. His fingertips brush the back of my hand where it rests on the blanket.

He swallows audibly. “Touch was a weapon used against me for a long time.”

I can relate. We both had monstrous parents who used us as punching bags. They took something from us that wasn’t theirs to take. “Tristan, you don’t have to. I know how hard it is for you.”

“It’s different with you.” The confession is dragged from somewhere deep inside him. “I don’t know why.”

I let my fingers slide among his, and he squeezes them gently without hesitation.

“Maybe because I’ve been through the same kind of pain.

I understand how it steals a piece of you that you’ll never get back, how it leaves a dark void that alters you forever, one only someone like us can fill… or fall into without remorse.”

He moves closer and pulls me toward him, until my head rests against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath my ear. His arm encircles me, protective rather than restraining.

A smile stretches my lips. “I should fall and hit my head every day.”

“Don’t ever say that, not even as a joke.”

“Tristan—”

“You should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. We both know what tomorrow holds.

I shouldn’t push for more, but I have to give it one last shot. “If I see him tomorrow, he won’t try to take me, you know, because he hasn’t earned me yet. And we both know he won’t kill me either.”

“Birdie,” he starts, not in reprimand or agitation, but in sinister affirmation, “there are worse things than death. Ways to keep someone alive but make them wish they weren’t.”

A chill runs through me at the darkness in his tone. I lift my head to look at his face, shadows playing across his features. Before I say anything, he pulls me back to his embrace.

“Sleep, Birdie,” he murmurs into my hair, his lips brushing against the back of my neck in a ghost of a kiss. “I’ve got you. I’m going to keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”

The vow speaks of blood and consequence. I should worry. I should remember that this man has killed, has destroyed lives without a blink. I should be afraid of what he might do to keep his word.

Instead, I close my eyes, oddly comforted by his presence even as fear of what’s to come gnaws at my insides. Tomorrow, we face our demons. But tonight, we’re safe, two broken people finding unexpected strength in each other’s jagged edges.

For now, it has to be enough.