Page 106 of Unexpected Hero

“You might be. This isn’t the best side of town.”

“Well, it’s what I got.” I toss my hands to the sides, my purse hitching a ride with my right arm, then slapping me in the side with the ebb of the momentum.

My shoulders slump in utter defeat.

His forehead wrinkles, and a severe look hardens his features. “You’re tired. Go to your room, Lettie.”

Moving on instinct, my feet stutter a step toward my room while years of being forced to comply without objection flutter through the back of my mind.

Do as you’re told, Lettie.

Good girls hold their tongue in the presence of a man.

Obedience brings you closer to the Lord.

Let the wiser man guide you since you can’t trust your thoughts, feelings, or emotions.

No, no, no. That’s not true. My thoughts and feelings are valid.

I am valid.

I plant my feet and hold James’s gaze. With a tremble in my voice, I find myself begging him. “Please don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

His expression melts, the frustration giving way to remorse. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He blinks, and his shoulders rise with a forceful inhale like he’s trying to restrain himself. “I only want you to be safe. I’ll feel better knowing you’re secure inside your room for the night.”

I choke down my response out of fear. Fear of overreacting because I’m tired and hurt. Fear of angering him after all he’s done for me. Fear of embarrassing myself.

And mostly out of fear of revealing myself.

Or of being myself.

Without speaking, I turn around and slink off toward my room. With each step I take away from him, my heart pounds more violently, and my sinuses sting as tears prick at the back of my eyes.

I refuse to cry in front of him.

He’s already seen me ten shades of pathetic. He doesn’t need to see the eleventh.

With determined focus, I call forth any remaining serenity left in my soul. It won’t last long; I already feel it threatening to slip away. These damn tears are determined to get the best of me.

Lettie Holt, you will not cry in front of James.

He’ll make me talk about it because he won’t understand why I’m upset. He doesn’t know I’m aware he lied about the no-dating policy. And I’m not prepared to confront him.

That fucker. Why did he do that?

If he doesn’t want anything to do with me, why is he here? I’m so confused.

I pick up my pace, aiming to get to my room before I lose this battle brewing inside my chest. His steps speed up, keeping him in stride with me.

With shaky hands, I open the door to my room and step inside. Keeping my lips pressed in a tight line, I’m barely able to hold off the wave of emotions. I turn and meet his eyes, then dip my forehead in a thank you gesture as I start to close the door.

When he sees the turmoil painted on my features, he moves closer, almost as if he’s compelled to soothe me.

But if he comes closer, I’ll cry.

If he comes into my room, I’ll cry.

If I let him touch me, I’ll cry.

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