Page 61 of My Damaged Protector

No. But I do understand why he would come to that conclusion.

“That’s not what I'm saying… I'm just… You know what? I'm not saying anything at all apart from I'm fine and you have nothing to worry about. Now can you please get us out of here before Lauren and Peter come out and decide to make my life a living hell?’”

Shaking his head at my words, he pulls at his shift stick and starts to steer the car out of the parking lot. I can tell he's not happy with my explanation, but he doesn't push it, and for that, I am grateful.

I look out the window, trying to calm my racing heart down. The day is not going as well as it started at all.

When I woke up this morning in Ian's arms, I was happy. Although I had no idea where we really stand, I felt we were in a place we've never been before.

We were at peace with each other.

He even opened up to me, with very few words, and there's the fact that he spoke in his dreams, giving me an inclination to where his actions come from.

I felt maybe I could talk to him about it later today, make him understand that I don't care about his history with people leaving him, but I won’t unless he asks me to.

But all that is now gone with the wind. It's impossible to have that conversation with him without telling him the truth. The truth that I'm scared will drive us further apart.

Just when we are about to get to the hotel, I notice that the crowd outside has tripled from earlier this morning.

Oh no.

“Can we go to your place, please? I just don't want to have to deal with the media right now.”

He doesn't say anything about my request, but he continues driving and he passes the hotel, going to the next turning point.

A few minutes later, we're at his place, and I feel a little better than I did at the hospital.

No one will know I'm here.

We climb down from his truck, and he leads me to his apartment’s door. He opens the door, and we enter.

“Did you just move in?” I ask him as soon as we enter his place.

I just can't help it. The place is empty. Looks like a lair for someone on the run. Looking straight ahead, I see a kitchen with a cabinet open and some utensils.

There's a TV on the wall. One sofa and a bed in the middle of the living room, which is very big. The place looks like a warehouse. Except for the kitchen that’s separate, and the bathroom too, it's literally an open space.

Ian laughs at my question and shakes his head. “I just haven't gotten around to make it look like…”

“Home?” I provide when I see he's struggling for words.

“Yeah, that. Anyway, make yourself at home,” he immediately laughs at the irony of his words and rolls my eyes dramatically.

“Are you hungry? Because I am hungry.”

I nod at his words. I can definitely use food. Although I'll have to be more careful with my intake with this new discovery. But it's still early.

“Yeah. Um… Do you have something we can eat?”

“I can make us chicken soup and some rice. Would you like that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He goes into the kitchen, and I busy myself with doing my best not to drive myself insane with worry. It's hard, though. Every thought that pops into my head leads me back to this new discovery.

What am I going to do about it?

I'd like to believe that I know what to do with it, which I do. There's no other option, really. I'm still scared.

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