Page 57 of The Lair

When I feel him take a step forward, I snap out of it. I appreciate that he’s standing up for me, but we don’t need to send anyone to the hospital today.

“Thanks for your time.” I send Robert my fakest smile, and I hope he isn’t stupid enough to open his mouth again.

When his gaze travels to the ready-to-pounce beast behind me, and I see that throat working a heavy swallow, I know he isn’t.

Travis waits until I’m in the car before he moves, his attention still on Robert. If he says something else to him, I don’t hear it—not like my head has much space left anyway after those two words.

My girl.

He probably means I’m his girl as in part of his staff. I shouldn’t overthink this.

Travis is a protective man. He always makes sure I get to my car safely and has come to my rescue several times in the pastyear when I’ve had to deal with difficult patrons. He even stayed the night on my minuscule couch to make sure I was safe if anything happened. Being an ex-Navy SEAL, protecting must be second nature to him. I’m not special. He does this for everyone—especially if they are under the average height and don’t look particularly strong or menacing. He’s only looking out for me like any other good person would.

“You didn’t threaten him, did you?” I ask him when he slides into the driver’s seat. I arch an unamused eyebrow when he doesn’t answer. “Boss man, we can’t jeopardize The Lair’s reputation for something silly.”

“Nobody talks to you like that and gets away with it, you hear me?”

I don’t know how to respond to this version of him. The version that openly cares so much for me.

I more than tolerate you, Allie.

“We’ll figure something out,” he adds, pulling out of the parking lot. “You’re moving out of that shithole.”

I don’t have the energy to tell him I’m not too sure about that.

Chapter Seventeen

Age 15

I chewed on my thumbnail,my eyes glued to the front door. My parents left for the vet with Milo, our dog, but it had been over two hours, and I was getting sick to my stomach just thinking?—

Don’t.

He’s going to be fine.

Our nanny, a blonde-haired hippie my mother found on some website, walked into the living room with Cindy in her arms and gave me a pitying look. I liked Faith—she was cool—but her attention was making my skin crawl. Because if she was looking at me likethatinstead of being her reassuring self, it could only mean one thing.

The weight of a ton of bricks pushed down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Can I have string cheese?” Johnny asked her.

He sat on the couch, his attention on the tablet resting on his knees as he played a racing game.

My brother had always loved cars. Picking all his toys apart and rebuilding them faster than a ten-year-old should be able to was his thing. He used to say he wanted to be a mechanic whenhe grew up, but he changed his mind to mechanical engineer when our mother said it would be more prestigious.

“Sure, Johnny-boy.” Faith beamed, but there was no hiding the worried gleam in her eyes. “I’ll get you some.”

She still hadn’t come back with his string cheese when the front door opened. My mother, my father?—

My stomach sank at the missing presence.

“Where’s Milo?”

My mother didn’t look at me, fishing for something inside her purse instead.

It was my father who said, his voice void of any tact, “He died.”

Two words were all it took for my heart to crash and burn.

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