Page 47 of This Life of Mine
She’s tiny.
Five-two at most, barely reaching my shoulder. I have to lower my head to meet her gaze, and still, she seems impossibly small facing me.
A full foot separates us in height.
Enough that I’m suddenly aware of every inch of space I occupy. Every pound of muscle. Every way I could be perceivedas a threat by someone who has spent years learning to fear men bigger than her.
I widen my stance without thinking, shift my weight back—to make myself less imposing. I’ve learned how size can seem overwhelming when it’s used wrong. I won’t be that. Not here. Not now.
She’s shaken, still riding the aftermath of fear, and the last thing she needs is another man looming over her. So I adjust. Slow my movements. Keep my hands visible. Let my voice drop instead of my body crowding hers.
The difference is there—solid, undeniable—but it’s mine to manage. And at this moment, the sole concern is her sense of security in my proximity.
“He should be held accountable,” I say, steady and certain. “I plan to press charges, and you should consider it as well.”
She swallows hard, nodding.
Good.
I’d rather not tell her what to do—only give her options and allow her the choice.
Everything in Cole’s file says this should have happened years ago.
Cole should have faced legal consequences after the accident.
The report had facts. Cole had enough drugs in his system to take down an elephant, drove and then wrapped his car around a pole, and put Lina in the hospital. She was eight months pregnant and had emergency surgery. Their baby didn’t survive.
Instead, Cole’s parents paid for lawyers to smooth it over. Charges disappeared, and he walked.
She filed for divorce two days after their baby’s funeral.
From what I’ve read, Cole is an alcoholic, semi-drug user with a pattern.
Bar fights, reckless behavior, violent when drunk. Trouble clings to him, but consequences never do. Not when money is always within reach.
Tonight, that ends.
I position myself between Lina and his unconscious body as sirens approach in the distance.
I’ll make damn sure Cole doesn’t get off this time.
The sirens are closer now, red and blue bleeding into the edges of the night.
Lina stands beside her Bronco, arms wrapped around herself, coat pulled tightly closed now. She’s holding it together, but barely.
She observes me, eyes focused despite the shock. “How did you end up here?”
It’s a fair question.
“My Airbnb’s around the corner,” I tell her. “I was out on a late-night run, and I heard screaming.”
It’s true, but not the entire truth.
She nods, taking a moment to absorb it before letting out a shaky breath. “Lucky timing.”
Yeah. Something like that.
What I don’t say is that she was the reason for the run, that watching her leave earlier, dressed up, confident, headed somewhere I couldn’t follow without crossing lines, messed with my head more than it should have.
