Page 32 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Thanks,” Kat replied. “Seriously—thank you, Chris.”

He tilted his chin and tipped his hat, then stepped off the porch toward his squad car. The backup he’d posted was sitting silently in the driveway.

“Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll call with any updates.”

We watched as he got into his car and slammed the door shut, flipping a U and driving off in a cloud of dust. When his taillights had disappeared, Kat took my arm and steadied me.

“Rest,” I scoffed as we turned toward the house. “As if that’s gonna happen tonight.”

“You need it, whether you like it or not,” she replied. “Now come on—you’ve gotta at least try to sleep.”

We went inside, the silence of the house settling over us. It was interrupted only by the sound of our footsteps and Livy's soft murmurs from the couch where she had curled up with Bandit. The hallway was still a crime scene—dark stains smeared across the floorboards.

“Damn,” Kat whispered, looking down at the marks of our earlier struggle.

“Let me help you with that,” I offered, already feeling the pull to take care of something, anything.

“No, sit with Livy,” Kat replied, her voice firm despite the tremor I heard. “I'll clean up. You're supposed to be taking it easy anyway.”

“Fine,” I conceded, moving to the couch. My body ached and my head pounded, but sitting still felt wrong.

“Thanks, Gabe,” Kat said softly before disappearing into the kitchen.

Settling beside Livy, I watched her breathe easily in sleep, Bandit nestled against her. She was safe, we were all safe—for now—and that was what mattered. I leaned back, trying to get comfortable, my eyes tracking Kat as she returned with a bucket and some rags.

“Hey,” I called out quietly, “you sure you don't need a hand?”

“Positive,” she shot back, a shadow of her usual fire flaring up. “Just keep an eye on Livy.”

I nodded, and she got to work. The scrubbing sounds were rhythmic, almost hypnotic, but I couldn't let myself zone out. Not tonight. My gaze was drawn to Kat's movements, the way she bent and stretched, determined to erase every trace of what had happened.

It struck me then, watching her—that stubborn streak, that refusal to back down—it was why she'd always gotten under my skin.

And why I admired her more than I wanted to admit.

As Livy's breaths deepened, Bandit snuggled closer, a small fortress around the kid. Good dog. I shifted, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling every stitch pull in my side. Head swimming from the painkillers and the concussion, I fought against the dizziness threatening to drag me under.

No way I was passing out before I checked in with Kat. She needed someone too, whether she'd admit it or not.

“Kat,” I finally said as she straightened up, tossing bloodied rags into the bucket. “You done?”

“Looks like it,” she sighed. Her eyes swept the hallway, searching for any spots she might have missed.

“Come sit for a bit. You look like you could use a break.”

“Hold on…I really need to wash my hands first,” she said. “The blood…”

I thought back to watching her try to use her phone, Ben’s blood slick on her fingers.

“Understood,” I said. “Take your time.”

Apparently she didn’t need long—because I heard the water run in the bathroom for only a moment before she was walking over to slump down on the couch between Livy and me, now dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweats. Her hands were red and raw from cleaning, exhaustion etched onto her face.

“Here,” I murmured, reaching for the blanket draped over the armchair next to me. I handed it to her, but instead of wrapping it around herself, she gently laid it over Livy, tucking it around the sleeping girl with such tenderness, it damn near knocked the wind out of me.

“Thanks,” she whispered, resting back against the cushions.

“Anytime,” I replied, my voice low.

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