Page 6 of My Damaged Protector

“What areyoudoing?” I throw the question back at him.

“Helping you stand upright. You?”

“Nothing. And I'm fine. You don't need to hold me.” My tone comes out a little stern, and he shuts down at my words, his expression going somber. “I'm sorry,” I try to say, but the words won't come out.

I guess I can be excused, though. I just had a near-death experience.

“Can I walk you home? Just to make sure you get home safely.”

His voice comes out so soft it brings tears to my eyes. I nod, sniffling as I wipe the them away.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Always,” is his response.

Somehow, it sounds like a vow, and it makes me even more emotional.

Oh, God.

“This way,” I say as I start to walk to the road that leads to my house.

As we walk, he speaks about how reckless the driver was, and I try to pretend to be interested in the conversation, but I really am not.

My mind is still reeling with the fact that I almost died. What is it with me and deadly accidents, anyway?

It's becoming tiring at this point.

And to think Ian is always around to save me, leaving me always indebted to him.

It doesn't help that my head can't differentiate between gratitude and love, not when it comes to Ian.

The man is the very core of most of my life's decisions. Wanting him, not being able to have him, our separation. And seeing him after all these years only to be thrown into the same confused state that I was in all those years ago.

Soon, we are in front of my door, and I couldn't be more grateful to enter my home.

“Thanks for everything,” I say, eager to depart from him after tonight’s events.

“You're welcome,” he responds, standing idle.

“I should, um, I should go inside.” I point at my door, and a fresh wave of disappointment fills his eyes.

Oh, no.

“Yeah, sure. I guess I'll see you around?” he asks nervously.

Again, I don't know why he's in my town or where he's staying, and honestly, I don't wish to.

But I nod anyway.

“Sure.”

He nods and starts to turn away. I noticed blood trickling down his left arm from a cut just below his elbow. Everything in me screams to ignore it, but I just can't.

Grabbing his hand, I inspect the cut. It's not as big as I first thought, but it needs to be cared for regardless.

He freezes at my touch, his eyes looking down at where I'm touching him.

I ignore his hot gaze and speak.

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