Page 3 of Swallow

She was tired, not just physically but obviously mentally too.

Something about her vulnerability stirred a protectiveness deep within me—a feeling I hadn't ever experienced before.

I wiped down the last of the glasses, placing them back on the shelf, and took a deep breath as I stared at her. She was trying like hell to stay awake, and I wondered what she’d been through. The idea that someone was trying to hurt her—or most likely already had—pissed me the fuck off.

There was tension surrounding her, one she most likely wanted to shake, but survival told hernot yet. I approached her table, the worn floorboards creaking under my boots. She glanced up, her eyes widening slightly as I neared.

“God, it’s late. I’m sorry for staying so long.”

She went to stand, and I said, “Do you have somewhere to stay?” I kept my voice gentle, searching her gaze for the truth when she stayed silent.

While Evie hesitated, I noticed her anxiousness took root. Her fingers tracing over the rim of her empty coffee mug were now slightly trembling.

“No,” she finally admitted softly, her voice barely audible as she gazed up at me.

Her innocence had a surge of that same protectiveness washing over me, mingling with an unexpected sense of possessiveness. The thought of her out there vulnerable and alone with nowhere to stay safe was unacceptable.

“Come with me,” I stated firmly, holding out my hand.

Her eyes widened, a flicker of unease crossing her features. “W-What? Where? And why would you help me? You don't even know me.”

I dropped my hand and stepped closer, taking the seat across from her. I wanted to ensure she couldfeelmy sincerity in my presence, hear it in my tone. “Look,” I said, trying to keep my gruff voice soft. “I don’t need to know you to see that you're in trouble.”

She sucked in a breath, and silently, she began to cry.

Fuck, who in the hell hurt you, Evie? Tell me, so I can hunt them down and kill them with my bare hands.

I cleared my throat to cover a growl. “I have a room above the bar. It’s mainly used for regulars or friends who get too trashed and can’t drive home. I let them sleep it off upstairs. You’re morethan welcome to stay there until you figure out what you want to do next.”

She sniffled, wiped her eyes, and stared down at her coffee mug. “I was not always this weak. I don’t recognize myself anymore.” The last part was whispered.

I didn’t know what to say to make her or this situation better, but I didn’t have to try to search for the right words for long, because she wiped her eyes once more and straightened her shoulders.

After another second, Evie stood and nodded. “Thank you, Ash. I’ll pay you back?—”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “Not happening.”

After a moment of her pretty eyes being narrowed on mine—either in suspicion or stubbornness—she nodded a silent agreement in place of arguing.

I gestured her forward but didn’t touch her, instead letting my hand hover over the small of her back as I led her to a place where she could finally rest. I vowed that whatever demons haunted her, they’d have to go through me first.

She stilled in the middle of the bar, not knowing where to go, so I took the lead, taking her to the back room and ascending the narrow stairs in silence. At the top, I unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to enter.

I left the door wide as she went inside and stepped to the center of the room. “It's not much, but it's clean and safe,” I said, flipping the light switch to reveal a modest studio apartment.

A small kitchenette occupied one corner, a neatly made bed in another, and a worn but comfortable-as-hell couch sat facing an outdated television that only got five local channels when the antenna worked.

Evie looked around cautiously, and I pointed to the door off to the side. “Bathroom's through that door. There are fresh towels in the cabinet.”

She cleared her throat and whispered, “Thank you, Ash.”

I could see the exhaustion etched into her features and the way she held herself, the weight of her burdens pressing down on her. A powerful part of me wanted to reach out, to offer some form of comfort, but I stayed where I was, right by the door.

I didn’t know what got into me, helping a stranger. I wasn’t an asshole, but I also usually kept to myself if I wasn’t serving drinks.

“You got a phone?” I asked, and she glanced at me and shook her head. I assumed as much, since I hadn’t seen her on one all night. “There’s no landline here, but if there’s an emergency, you can head downstairs and use the one in the bar.”

“You trust me to be here? A stranger?” Her eyes were wide. The way she looked at me and how she asked that told me all I needed to know.

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