Page 147 of Unexpected Hero

Although she’s finally got a job, a safe place to stay, and new friends, I haven’t been able to stop checking on her.

Violet Holt is an addiction.

Despite my attempts to kick the habit, I’ve only succeeded at stepping down to one check per day.

Most days.

Usually, it’s a brief scan of her cell activity and a peek at the GPS history on her car just to ensure she’s doing well.

If it’s a bad day for me, I might listen to her voice through the microphone on her cell. Hearing her sing, even briefly, makes the gnawing pain under my ribs subside.

The surefire way to catch her singing is when she’s driving. I cling to those moments.

I tell myself it’s innocent and that I’m merely protecting her. Sometimes, it’s true.

She’s a craving I’m powerless to satiate. But I keep trying.

Undoubtedly, I would have crossed every physical line with her by now if she hadn’t sent me away. Even with the long workdays, nothing would have kept me from claiming her.

If she wanted me.

But she doesn’t.

I should be used to being unwanted. But with her, it’s fucking excruciating.

Not being part of her world reminds me of a feeling I’ve long since buried. It’s a longing pang in the back of my throat that burrows down into my gut. Something from my childhood.

In the early morning hours, when my head finally hits the pillow after a grueling day in the office, I’ve pondered what that familiar sensation might be. Last night, it finally hit me.

It’s a mournful wanting to be with her again. That her absence causes me to be somehow less complete. It languishes at the edge of my consciousness, under the surface but never entirely out of grasp. It’s something I felt for my mother at night on that dirty mattress. I missed her after she... well, after she was gone.

And I fucking miss Lettie.

Dammit, I miss her. That’s what the elusive feeling is.

I don’t know how to fix it. There’s only one thing that eases it — connecting with her the only way I can. Like right now. After a quick check of her GPS, I’ll feel better.

When I tap in the code to unlock my phone, my attention falls immediately to the red bubble over the message icon. Three new texts. All from Freya.

A boulder sinks in my gut. Holding my breath, I skim her messages.

Freya

We need to talk about your girl. She had an incident tonight when she found out about the rope demos.

Freya

Just realized my message sounded more alarming than I intended. My bad. Don’t panic. She’s fine. But she’s also not fine.

Freya

I’ll explain more when we speak, but the short of it is this… she saw you on the schedule and had a panic attack. I calmed her down, but I hate seeing her in pain when I know you care about her. I strongly feel that you should come clean with her.

Come clean with Lettie? No fucking way.

How could I possibly confess all the things I’ve hidden? It’s not only the continued invasion of her privacy and all the items I covertly purchased for her room.

There’s so much more.

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