Page 8 of Her Protective Lumberjack

Chloe looks down at her lap, and instinctively, I reach out to take her hand, squeezing tight. She sucks in a breath and meets my gaze with those pretty blue-gray eyes, so different from Roman’s green ones. After he left the military to become a police officer in Arizona, we stayed in touch despite the distance, and when he told me he was adopting a kid, I was shocked as hell. Roman never seemed like the paternal type—he was too grumpy, too introverted, a lot like me. But people change, and he clearly loves his adopted daughter. I know he’s done everything in his power to give her a good life.

“My biological parents…” Chloe begins with a deep breath. “They were drug addicts. I was an accident, and when I came along, they couldn’t cope. They neglected me and left me to fend for myself while they got high.” Tears well in her eyes. “Then, when I was four, my father died from an overdose. That brought the police to the house, and Roman was the first officer on the scene. I was just skin and bone by then, living in a filthy drug den, but he carried me out of there. The doctors said a couple more weeks and I would have died.”

My grip tightens on Chloe’s hand, my jaw clenching. It breaks my heart to think of Chloe as a little girl, malnourished and neglected, just waiting to be rescued.

“Social services took me away,” Chloe continues. “They sent me to a child therapist, but I wouldn’t talk to anybody except Roman.” She smiles slightly despite the tear that slides down her cheek. “He was the only person I trusted, and once the case was over and my mom was sent to jail for child neglect, he startedthe adoption process. He and Polly, his mom, became my legal guardians: my dad and my grandma.”

“I remember your grandma,” I say, images of a smiley old lady with red hair flashing through my mind. “She was a great woman. I was sorry to hear that she passed away.”

Chloe nods. “It was a few years ago now, but I still miss her. She was more like a mom to me than a grandma.” She wipes away another tear. “My biological mom spent a couple of years in prison, then skipped town. I didn’t hear from her again, not until I googled her name when I was fifteen and found her obituary.” Shaking her head, she adds, “They didn’t specify how she died, but I’m certain it was an overdose.”

“I’m so sorry Chloe. Fuck, you went through so much.”

Rocky unfurls himself from his position by the fireplace and joins us, whimpering as he rests his head against Chloe’s leg. She gives him a watery smile.

“Luckily, I don’t have many memories from that period of my life,” she says. “I was too young. But it still makes me sad to think about my parents, knowing that drugs stole their lives like that.” She sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could have met them before they became addicts, just to see who they really were before addiction changed them.”

“You deserved better, Chloe.” It’s painful to hear her talk about all the shit she’s been through. Yet, despite everything, she’s still sweet and kind. There’s no bitterness in her voice, not even when she talked about the neglect she suffered, and I wish more than anything that I could take the pain away. I already knew the bare bones of the story—how Roman and Polly adopted Chloe when she was young because her parents couldn’t look after her. But I had no idea her childhood was so bad. Knowing that she almost died from neglect makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“I did deserve better,” Chloe says. “No child should go through that. But I’ve been so lucky.” Her eyes light up with emotion. “I have the best dad in the world, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Life could have turned out very differently for me, but thanks to my dad, I’ve been happy. Normal.” Her smile slips slightly. “Well, apart from the death threat. Everything was normal until then.”

I rub my thumb reassuringly against her hand, my skin burning at the contact. “Your dad’s a damn good cop, Chloe. If he says he can catch Will Mercer, he can. And in the meantime, I’m here to keep you safe.” My heart sinks a little as I add, “You’ll be back in Phoenix in no time.”

She gives me a weak smile. “Thank you, Trace. And thanks for listening to me vent. It means a lot. Something about the craziness of everything that’s going on…I guess it just stirred up some old emotions.”

I nod. “I know a thing or two about old emotions. They always show up when you least expect them. Doesn’t matter if it’s been months, years…some things never go away. We just learn to live with them.”

Chloe cocks her head curiously, but I don’t want to talk about Nolan right now. I can’t face it. Before she can ask me anything, though, a knock sounds at the door, and I’m instantly on high alert. Will Mercer is still fresh in my mind, and I jump up from my seat, peering out of the window to get a glimpse of the person on the doorstep. But it’s only Duke.

“Hey,” he says when I open the door. “I’m here to pick up that lumber. The maple.”

“I don’t have it.”

Duke raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“I haven’t been working today. Only chopped down one tree this morning, and it wasn’t a maple.”

“Damn.” He whistles. “In all these years, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a day off.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Duke’s right, usually my work is my life. I spend all day long roaming the forest, chopping wood, and my lumber has a reputation for being the best in Crave County. I’ve been throwing myself into this job for years, but right now, it seems so unimportant compared to the girl sitting in my cabin.

“Guess I’ll come back tomorrow then,” Duke says.

“Make that next week.”

“You’re taking the whole week off?”

He looks incredulous, but as much as I like Duke, I want him to get the hell out of here so I can go back to Chloe.

“Hopefully longer,” I say. “When I have more lumber, I’ll call the hardware store and let you know. Might not be for a while.”

Duke shakes his head. “Damn. You feeling okay?”

“Never better. Bye, Duke.”

Before he can say anything else, I shut the door and head back to Chloe. She’s completely engrossed in her painting once more, and I watch as she adds the finer details—the shine of Rocky’s coat, the twinkle in his puppy dog eyes. When she finally sets her brush down, I’m stunned.

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