Page 125 of Guarding Over You
“Yes,” Gracie said, pedaling into the garage and getting off her bike.
She grabbed her daughter’s hand for comfort. For security. For the assurance and shield to whisk her away.
“You’re hurting me,” Gracie said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She dropped her daughter’s hand quickly after hitting the button to shut the garage, then ran through the house to the front door to lock it.
She forced herself to get her daughter’s snack and keep her occupied, the mail still sitting on the porch where she left it. Probably a mistake.
When her phone went off ten minutes later, she saw the alert. Someone was walking up the front steps, then stopped to bend and get the mail.
Ford.
“Stay here, honey. Mom needs to talk to the neighbor.”
She slipped out the door, shutting it behind her.
“I got here before Clay. He’s on the way. Gracie in the house?”
“Yeah. Can we stay out here while we do this?”
“Of course,” Ford said. “Come sit. Take a deep breath. In and out again.”
“I can’t stand this. It’s just a letter, but it feels as if it’s going to be the knife to come out and get me now.”
“It’s what it represents,” Ford said. “It’s a clue. Every clue leads to catching the person.”
“If you say so,” she said, lowering her body to the top step.
Ford sat next to her, put gloves on and slid the envelope out so as to not touch it. He took a few pictures, then pulled the top back and slipped the letter out.
A small sheet folded three times. The same paper as the other two. The same writing.
HE WON’T SAVE YOU. HE CAN’T. HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW.
Her hand went in front of her mouth. “It’s about Blaze, isn’t it? That’s who they are talking about, right?”
Ford let out a massive breath. “Looks that way to me.”
38
WATCHING OVER THEM
Blaze pressed the weights overhead again, harder and faster, each rep sharper than the last. The burn in his arms wasn’t enough. It never was. He couldn’t sweat out helplessness. Couldn’t outlift guilt.
Something from his past was bleeding into Arden’s life, and the thought of that had him seeing red.
Worse that he didn’t know what the fuck it was.
If he did, he’d feel as if he were more in control.
“Fuck me.”
He dropped the weights with a dull clang and sat forward, chest heaving. He grabbed his water bottle, chugged half of it, then dragged his hand down his face.
He should have been at the hospital with her today. Should have covered a damn shift. Instead, he’d spent the morning pacing his house, trying to shake off the image of her face when fear crept in. The same fear he’d had last night. The one that kept him up all night holding her in his arms as she’d been restless.
He’d been heading home, thinking about Arden and Gracie. About walking in the door to dinner, laughter, a life that felt dangerously close to his dream.
