Page 61 of Hearty

He takes one look at my face, and I think he knows I mean business. I pray to God he actually follows instructions.

Then I make for the exit door once more, slowly pushing it open out onto the balcony. Surprise is my only saving grace here because if I come out guns blazing, he’s sure to make a run for it. The police haven’t been able to bring him in yet, and this is our chance. If I can secure him here, he’ll go away for what he’s done to August. She’ll never have to fear him cornering her again.

“You stupid bitch, just give me the money! You’re as dumb as your mother was!” he screams at her, her horrified gasp getting lost on the wind.

I watch as her hand slips off the railing, sending her back crashing into it, and I have to fight the urge to growl. He can’t hear me approaching, or this whole thing will be for naught. As quietly as I can, I tiptoe toward him, readying my hands and bracing my body with the tension to tackle him.

“You can’t escape this. I won’t stop until the debt is?—”

He doesn’t get the last word out as I ram into him from behind, the creak of the metal deck groaning with the impact of him going down with me on top of him. My elbow smashes into the ground, but I barely register the pain with the adrenaline flowing through my system. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear August scream bloody murder. I hope she ran inside, and got away and didn’t stay here to intervene. I really fucking hope that guy called the cops.

“Fuck you,” the tall thin man snarls, twisting so that he almost turns me over, but I keep the upper hand.

For someone so willowy, he’s pretty strong, and it’s a feat keeping him on his back.

He’s struggling against me, the wind whipping at my face, and the only thing I fear is him getting away without paying for what he’s done to August. I’ve never been the fighter in the family; I’ve never used my fists for anything. My wit and charm usually got me out of slippery situations, but that doesn’t mean Liam never taught me how to throw a punch.

So I prep my hand, adjusting my knuckles, and targeting for the right spot. You hit him, he hits the floor; it’s what my brother always told me. If I do it correctly, I won’t need to throw more than one.

Winding up, I wait for a moment when he stops struggling for just a second and let my arm fly. My knuckles make contact with his jaw and cheek so hard that I think I might have broken my hand, but it doesn’t matter. The pain is a far-off feeling as I follow through, putting as much power into the violent strike as I can.

Before I know it, the guy’s head snaps back against the deck, and he slumps silently beneath me. I wait one second, two seconds, and then check him. He’s out. Breathing, but completely out.

Standing with a haggard breath, I pray he stays that way for a while. Wiping the sweat from my brow from the exertion I just used, I hear the distant wail of police sirens.

A sob catches my attention, and I whirl to see the bravest woman I know, hugging both arms tightly around herself.

“Come here.” I grab August, hauling her to me, the knowledge of her safety the only thing grounding me.

“I was coming out of the bathroom and he grabbed me,” she blurts out, her voice frantic. “He dragged me out here. I tried to fight him. Oh, Evan, thank God. I thought he was going to …”

She breaks off on a sob, and I pull her closer to me. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you. I’ll always protect you.”

“Don’t let me go.” Her hands grip at my back.

“Never,” I promise.

An hour later, after the thin man is put in the back of a cop car in handcuffs and they’ve interviewed both of us, I still haven’t let go of August. We cling to each other, a new bond weaving between us.

She is my comfort, and I am her safe space. And although I didn’t want it to come to this, I’m glad she’s finally letting me help her.

As I walk her to my car and tell her I’m taking her home, we both know I mean our shared home. The one I’m hoping we can remain in, because after tonight, I never want to let her go again.

29

AUGUST

My eyes flutter against the slats of sunlight coming in through the patterned curtains, the warm fingers of sleep wanting to drag me back under.

Strong arms flex around me, and I nuzzle into the soft curl of hair on Evan’s chest as I fight to keep my dreams alive and the waking world at bay.

“Mm, morning, beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, and I want to hear his voice so badly again that I can’t go back to sleep now.

“Morning.” I stretch a little but don’t move from where I’m draped over him.

He palms my ass, eliminating any space between us, and I bask in how intimate yet extraordinarily right this feels. Not only does a sense of lust float between us, but it’s more than that. Over the past few months, we’ve developed a source of companionship. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before.

“Let’s not get out of this bed today, deal?” His husky voice is the best sound I’ve ever heard.

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