Page 23 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“It was next to where we were sitting. I didn’t want him following me home. I didn’t realize at the time that he already knew exactly where I lived.”

Tate nodded. Will had probably already told him what he needed to know, but he had opened Pandora’s box.

“He was so proud that he knew so much about me, and he thought I’d be excited that he’d done his research. Even when I became visibly nervous, he just smiled and patted my hand. He told me the first time he saw me, he knew I was the one.”

Tate swore softly. “So what happened after that?”

“At first, I had hoped it was over, but he started sending me letters in the mail…to my address he should never have known.”

“Do you have the letters?”

“Will does.”

He nodded.

“Anyway, I’ve moved a few times since, and he’s always found me. I’m not even sure how bad it is because Will keeps some of it from me.”

Tate rubbed at his chin for a long moment. “I wish I would have done more at the wedding.”

My leg twitched back and forth. I drew in a breath. Here it was. The moment I’d been dreading since finding out Tate was the one watching over me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Tate looked over at me curiously.

“It was my fault that I didn’t let you do more that night.”

He still looked confused. It was just better to get it over with.

“You were going to go talk to him or yell at him, and I stopped you because I didn’t want to make a scene. But I’ve wondered every day if letting you do that would have made a difference. I’m guessing it would have.” I blew out a breath, fighting back the layers of disgust at myself currently building up in my chest. I attempted a teasing smile. “Anyway. As much as I hate to admit when you’re right about something, there you go. I wish I would have listened to you.”

We watched the hay before us being mowed into a row. It was almost relaxing to watch, if not for the anxious silence that settled between us. Or maybe that was just on my end. But I didn’t regret my words. It felt good to get it all out in the open. Suddenly, the tractor lurched to a stop. Tate threw it into park before he turned to me. My gaze remained fixed on the field in front of me.

“Hang on,” he began, holding up a hand somewhat incredulously. “This guy’s been terrorizing you for six months, and you’re taking the blame?”

I blinked. “No. Not all of it, but I probably could have prevented some of it.”

“What could you have prevented?”

“If I would have just⁠—”

“Nope,” he interrupted. “Try again.”

“If I would have let you talk to him⁠—”

He shook his head adamantly. “Nope.”

“What?” I cried out, exasperated. “Just let me say what I’m trying to say.”

“If you can say it without starting your sentence with the word if, then be my guest.”

I faltered. As a writer, I could have rephrased my statement a hundred different ways, but ultimately I was unable to stitch together in words this regret I carried. On paper, Leroy was the bad guy. I knew that. I felt that. But I carried the rest. At times, all the what-ifs pressed so heavily on my heart that it was hard to breathe.

Unable to help myself, I looked at Tate. His eyes were blazing with…anger?

“Alright, Rawlins,” he began, one arm resting on the wheel, “I see this a lot with victims, but I’m going to stop you right here. Nobody can predict the future. We just have to use the best judgment we have at the time. So let’s get one thing straight right now.” He waited until my eyes locked onto his before he spoke again. “You did nothing wrong with that guy. Not one damn thing. Not then, not now. This mess is all on him. Not you.”

I blinked, trying to reconcile the fact that it was Tate Walker saying these things to me. It was nice to hear, but that didn’t mean I believed him. I wanted to. But I knew different.