Page 9 of Chasing Amber

“I do. I don’t care how difficult you are. I don’t care if you try to Houdini your way out of every building we enter. I don’t care if you scowl at me, give me the silent treatment, and hide in your room or even in your closet, baby. I’m not leaving.”

I think she’s sniffling. “That’s dumb.”

I smile. “I didn’t say I was particularly smart, but I’m still yours.” I stop shy of saying I’m her Daddy. I’ve flipped her world upside down. She needs time to process this. “I’m going to fix you a plate of food and set it outside this door. Then I’ll leave your bedroom and shut the door. You can come out and get your plate. You can lock me out if you want to. Eat in your room, your bathroom, or your closet. I don’t want you to be hungry. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to come out later, or you can stay in hereall night. You can stay in here for a week or a month. When you come out, I will be here.”

She’s crying, and it tears me up inside. I want to hold her, rock her, comfort her. I want to kiss the top of her head and stroke her back. I’ve never done any of those things. I’m not positive I’ll ever get the opportunity, but I have hope. I feel like this intense standoff went well. Now, I need to follow through on my promise.

I leave the room. My hands shake as I fill a plate with her dinner and pop it in the microwave. I grab two cans of her favorite sparkling water from the fridge, too. After I place it all outside her bathroom, I knock. “Your food is out here. I promise I’m not setting you up. This is not a trick. I will shut your bedroom door and leave you alone now, baby.”

I can’t resist tacking on that last word. She is absolutely my girl, whether she wants to admit it or not. And I will call herbabywhen I feel like it. It’s high time Amber starts to accept that she’s mine and I’m never leaving.

CHAPTER 3

Amber

Minutes tick by while I sit in the corner of the bathroom with my knees pulled up to my chin. My arms are wrapped around my shins, and I’m rocking myself forward and backward.

My heart is racing. I can’t believe any of that just happened. Maybe I’m still asleep in the back of my closet, and I dreamed it. Surely, my bodyguard—the one I have treated like dog dung for two years—did not just call mebabyand tell me I’m his girl.

I squeeze my eyes closed. I’m in a strange headspace. I think I’m Little. I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure. I’ve also never grabbed my childhood teddy bear and crawled into my closet to hide. I’ve seen Cassandra do this. I think that’s where I got the idea. And it felt good. It calmed me.

The drive home was tense, so when we got here, I needed to escape. I didn’t think. I grabbed my phone, my book, and my teddy and climbed into the corner of the closet. It was comforting. I could finally breathe easier than I had in over an hour. My brain was racing in ten directions, and I shut it all down by reading.

Apparently, I fell asleep. I nearly died when I woke up to find Isaac standing over me. How mortifying. He must have thought I was the biggest baby on Earth.

Everything about me just went up in smoke, and I don’t know how to rein it in and go back to the way things were. I’m not going to share my Little with him. That’s madness.

He has to leave. I don’t want to see him again. I’m too embarrassed. I will call my brother and tell him to fire him. Now. Tonight. I’ll tell Spence I’m not coming out of my bathroom until Isaac is gone, so I never have to face him again.

I look around. Shoot. My phone is still in the closet. I stare at the bathroom door. Isaac promised me he would not set up a trap and stand outside the bathroom waiting for me. Would he break that promise?

I unroll myself and slowly stand on shaky legs. I’m exhausted. Emotionally drained. I’m also hungry. I didn’t eat much for lunch. I slowly open the bathroom door, just a crack, to make sure Isaac isn’t a liar. When I don’t see him, I push it the rest of the way open.

My mouth waters when I see the plate of food. He wasn’t lying about that, either. When I squat down to pick it up, I find the plate still warm. He made my favorite meal and even heated it.

I turn around and set it on the bathroom counter before rushing through my bedroom and into my closet to grab my phone. For a moment, I stare at my other things, but then I grab them, too. My pillow, my teddy bear, and my book.

I hurry back to the bathroom, barricade myself inside by locking the door, and drop down onto my bottom with my plate of food. First, I need to eat, and then I’ll think about what to do next.

I’m ridiculously ravenous. I should probably be too stressed to eat, but the first bite of Isaac’s special homemade mac andcheese makes me moan. He’s such a good cook, and I’m so blessed that he does most of the cooking.

Granted, he also does most of the eating. If he weren’t living with me, I would be more of a nibbler. I don’t like to take the time to cook good meals. I’ve eaten much better since he moved in.

I think about what Millie said.Amber, nobody works twenty-four-seven for any amount of money. Not unless they’re getting something else out of it.

At the time, I was taken aback, thinking she’d meant to imply that I was sleeping with him. That’s not what she’d meant at all. She was trying to point out that he wouldn’t stay with me like this if he didn’t care.

Maybe she’s right. He did just tell me he cares. He also said a lot of other things. Most of it was confusing, and my head is still spinning. My world really did flip upside down, and I’m freaking the fuck out. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I take a bite of chicken and then broccoli. He seasons them so perfectly. I wouldn’t eat this well if I fired him. That’s not a good reason to keep him, though. Good grief.

After I finish everything on my plate and down one of the cans of sparkling water, I stare at my phone. I should call Spence. No. That’s a horrible idea. I don’t want my brother to think I’m weak. I’mnotweak. In ten years, I’ve never once let him see me as anything other than badass. I refuse to be a victim—at least not on the outside.

On the inside…? That’s another story. I have a therapist for a reason. Spence, Ben, and Isaac know I’ve been seeing a therapist for the last ten years. I always shrug it off and tell them everyone should go to therapy. It’s good for everyone. That’s not a lie, but I also have bigger issues than I let anyone believe.

I wonder if Isaac knows I’ve started waking up at night. I have no idea if I make any noise or not. By the time I’m jerkedawake, I’m sitting up, heart pounding, sweating. Do I cry out? If so, he hasn’t ever come in to check on me.

I’ll look like a big baby if I call my brother and ask him to fire my bodyguard. Maybe I should call Cassandra. She’s super sweet. She would listen to me. Would she tell my brother and Ben, though? Probably. Their relationship is kind of new. Her alliance is definitely to them, as it should be. If she thought I had a problem, she would run to them for help.

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