Page 24 of Yolo

“Probably,” I admitted. “The owner, when I talked to him, sounded very knowledgeable. I hate that his daughter had an accident, though.”

“Same,” he said as he came to a stop. “You mind if I look in here for it? Maybe he lied to you and threw it in the inside trash.”

I waved a hand for him to go ahead.

He disappeared, walking through the house at a fast clip.

I walked to the sofa and took a seat, my hands resting between my knees as I waited for him to come back.

He did, and moments later, he placed my bear into my arms.

Emotions welled up immediately, and the tears filled my eyes seconds later.

“God,” I breathed. “Is it possible to kill someone with only your thoughts? Because if it was, Joseph would definitely be dead right now.”

He chuckled as he said, “It was in your office. On the top shelf.”

“Of course it was.” I squeezed my eyes tightly shut to curb the tears. “I swear, the man likes to torture me.”

“He had to have known you’d never find that on your own,” he growled.

“He knew I wouldn’t,” I agreed. “Pretty much, I don’t even bother to put anything above face level.”

“You ever need anything else,” he said. “And I’ll handle it.”

I tucked the bear into my side and stood up. “I appreciate you helping me.” I felt my shoulders deflate. “I hate being defective,” I moaned.

I didn’t hear him move.

He was just there.

His hand wrapped around my ponytail and yanked my head backward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about yourself like that.”

The man’s cool, deep voice surprised me.

I liked how it sounded.

“I-I won’t,” I stuttered.

Butterflies started to take flight in my belly at his nearness.

He was so close I could smell his breath.

Mint and beer.

I kind of liked it.

“You could, uh, stay if you wanted,” I offered. “I was about to watch some Bones. But we could watch…”

He was already letting me go. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” I pushed.

Then I wanted to slap myself for sounding so desperate.

He was silent for a long second before he said, “I’m not safe.”

I frowned, my fingers clenching into a fist. “What do you mean you’re not safe?”

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