Page 90 of My Damaged Protector

Heh. I guess he doesn't know me as much as I thought he did.

“Tim, I'm in Glazer Ville.”

“What? Are you crazy? Do you realize how easily you can be found by these people? And by the way, exactly what is going on, because I don't know what to believe is right or wrong at this point?”

He sounds so worried about me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's concerned about me. But I know better. He cares about the money he's making and ensuring nothing taints that.

“Well, that's part of the reason I called you. I need you to help me buy a new house.”

He goes silent at my words for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Are you sure about this? Can't you just tell the media exactly what's going on and clear your name?”

If only it were that simple.

“I'm afraid that's not possible.”

“Why? Is this because the news is right? Sarah, are you allowing a man to die because you have a grudge against him?” His voice goes low toward the end.

I don't dignify his question with an answer. If he can ask me this, then maybe he really doesn't know me at all.

“I need you to get me a house in Ohio. Ashdale, to be precise. I'm going to be changing my pen name too, and I know you'll be against it, but my minds already made up, so you're either going to support me or not.”

A long sigh comes from his end of the phone before he eventually speaks again. “I'll get on it.”

Nodding, a feeling of relief starts to spread through me. It isn't until this moment that I realize how unsure I was about how this conversation would turn out. And to think I thought he wouldn’t have been in support of me leaving.

“Thanks, Tim.”

“You're welcome. And I'm sorry about what I said. Whatever it is that's happened, I don't want to know. All I care about is that you'll be okay.”

Smiling, I take the phone away from my ear. I guess he's not that bad, after all.

“I'll be expecting your feedback,” I say before I end the call.

My aunt is in my room as soon as I drop the call, and it leads me to the conclusion that she never left the doorway.

“And? What did he say?” she asks a little too eagerly for someone who wasn't in support of me leaving.

“He's on it,” I say.

“Oh,” she mumbles, her face falling. She hasn't come around to my decision, has she? “I guess I'll be in the kitchen then.”

She turns around and starts to leave.

“I'll join you,” I say and stand up to follow her out.

The moment we enter the kitchen, she starts to move around, fetching ingredients until I come to the decision that she wants to bake.

The sound of someone knocking on the living room door and then pushing it open makes both of us jump out of the kitchen.

We didn't lock the door after Claire left. Shit.

I get to the living room first, and I see a figure moving through the house. A loud scream of fear ripples out of my mouth until the face of the person comes into the light.

“Ian?” I squeak out as I squint at him. “What the hell are you doing creeping around the house?”

He stops walking and addresses me with a grim look on his face. “I wasn't creeping. I knocked, and no one answered. The door was open, so I let myself in.”

How smart. The retort is at the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down, not wanting to get into another argument with him.

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