Page 6 of Protecting Paige

Forcing a calm I’m not feeling, I say, “Okay. You need to get to a safe place. Then call the police. Now.”

“It might not be…” Fear strains Paige’s voice. “Maybe it’s the pipes. Or…”

“Lock the door,” I order. “Now.”

“Okay. Okay.” I can hear her moving; her footsteps quick and light on a wooden floor. “I’m going. This door doesn’t lock. I don’t have an attached bathroom, so I’ll have to go?—”

“No. Don’t leave the bedroom. Block the door. You can use a wedge. Find some fabric. Cardboard. A book.”

“Cillian—” Her voice cuts off with a yelp.

She cries out, but it’s quickly muffled.

A clatter sounds in my ear.

Then the call cuts off.

Fuck.

FUCK.

“Paige!” I yell uselessly into the phone.“Paige!”

CHAPTER 2

PAIGE

How did things go wrong so quickly?

One second, I was talking to Cillian, feeling more optimistic than I had in weeks. My mind was wandering to hopeful possibilities—of our weekly phone calls shifting to more frequent ones and maybe even meeting in person one weekend soon.

I was envisioning his face, as I often do, wondering how closely the image in my head matched reality. He has scars, I know—he told me about the accident several months ago—and I can tell he’s still insecure about them. But in my mind, they’re not grotesque or disfiguring. They’re marks that show he survived.

He’s six-foot-two, nearly a foot taller than me, which I like. It’s just the right height for me to rest my cheek on his chest while we sleep or to tuck my head beneath his chin whenever we hug.

Is it crazy to be thinking about sleeping with a man I’ve never met? Maybe.

Although my college roommate, Aida, met her husband on an online dating site, and it’s been working out for them. Yes, she saw Jeff’s photo before she went out with him, but that’s the only difference between me and Cillian. Besides his face, I know everything else about him that matters.

I know he used to be a Green Beret until he separated from the Army to get married and start a family. I know his marriage didn’t work out, but he doesn’t hold ill will towards his ex. Like he explained,“I was sad about it at first. I felt like I’d failed. But over time, I realized we weren’t meant for each other. I hope Raisa finds the right person, but it isn’t me.”

And the unspoken part that I’ve thought about more and more as time’s gone by—could the right person for Cillian beme?

When we’re midway through a three-hour-long phone call, laughing our butts off about something ridiculous that happened at work, or exchanging tips for our never-ending home renovation projects, I find myself longing for more. Not just to talk to Cillian over the phone, but in person. To show him the projects I’ve finished and the ones I’m still plugging away at. Maybe Cillian could take me hiking, and we might even end up holding hands as we walk. Kissing at the end to celebrate our accomplishment.

Yes, I’ve thought about kissing Cillian. Many times. I think about his eyes darkening to a deep evergreen as he leans towards me, desire heating within. I think about his strong arms embracing me, hugging me close to a broad chest thick with muscle.

He hasn’t come out and said it, but he has to be in good shape, considering how often he works out. Near-daily trips to the gym, weekly hikes, plus a fully equipped workout room in his basement… I’m not sure how he couldn’t be in great condition.

Would I like him even if he wasn’t? Absolutely. One of the cool things I’ve discovered about getting to know Cillian is our relationship goes so much deeper than physical attraction. He understands me. It seems like he cares about me. And Idefinitelycare about him.

“Don’t just sit there!Dosomething!”

The barked command makes me jolt, and I let out a muffled yelp of fear.

My thoughts are rudely yanked away from pleasant things like Cillian and kisses and back to the terrible situation I’ve found myself in.

To the reason my night isnotgoing as I expected.