Page 7 of Forbidden Love

“You’re here now.” Tammy didn’t let him finish. Her voice was soft yet firm, her eyes holding a quiet plea. “That’s all that matters to me and Ben.”

Brock swallowed hard, guilt and fury tangling inside him. He should’ve checked on her sooner, dammit. He should have heard it in her voice when he had talked to her. But he hadn’t, and that truth ate at him.

Instead of saying any of that, he just nodded. Sometimes, words didn’t fix a damn thing.

He watched as she turned, her shoulders still tense but her steps a little lighter than they’d been when she first arrived. Full of energy and resilience, Ben jumped up the steps two at a time, following his mother inside.

Brock stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d make damn sure she and Ben never had to live in fear again.

By the time Brock finished cleaning up, the sun had started to set. Brock rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension from the day, and that’s when he caught sight of a familiar figure walking down the road.

Deb.

Alone.

He frowned, watching as she made her way toward the only restaurant in the small town, her arms wrapped around herself even though the air was warm. She walked with purpose, but something about how her head was slightly bowed and kept glancing around didn’t sit right with him.

Brock swore under his breath, tossing his tools aside before grabbing a rag to wipe the sweat and dirt from his hands. His gut twisted with an urgency he didn’t quite understand as he stepped on the porch, moving with purpose.

He rushed inside, the screen door slamming behind him. “Go ahead and eat without me,” he told Tammy, already heading toward the small bathroom.

Tammy arched a brow from where she stood at the kitchen counter, but she didn’t question him. She just nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

Brock didn’t have time to dwell on what she might be thinking. He jumped into the shower, the water running hot as he scrubbed off the day's sweat and grime. His mind wasn’t on the work he’d done or even on the storm damage he still had to helpfix. No, his thoughts were on Deb and the way she carried herself like she was bracing for a blow, like she expected people to turn on her at any moment.

Damn it.

He shut the water off, ran a towel over his face, and yanked on a clean pair of jeans and a fitted T-shirt. Running a hand through his damp hair, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“Make sure you lock the door behind me,” Brock ordered Tammy who followed him. “I’ve got my keys.”

He didn’t move off the porch until the lock clicked behind him. Brock wasn’t sure why, but he felt an urgency to protect Deb Snodgrass. He knew he would have no peace if he didn’t act on it. His wolf growled in agreement.

Maybe it was just the alpha in him, that deep-rooted instinct to protect, to step in when someone needed it. Yeah, that’s what it was. Nothing more. Just his nature kicking in, his wolf’s natural dominance demanding he make sure she was okay.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he shoved his keys into his pocket and headed toward the diner, his boots hitting the pavement with more force than necessary.

But deep down, he knew that was a lie.

CHAPTER 5

The bell above the diner’s door jingled as Deb stepped inside. The familiar scent of coffee and fried food wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She had been coming here for years, yet it felt like enemy territory lately.

The low hum of conversation didn’t stop completely, but she caught the subtle pauses, the quick glances in her direction before heads turned back to their meals. It wasn’t outright hostility, but it was close. It was a clear reminder of the damage she had done, the bridges she had burned...as if she could forget.

Sliding into a booth near the window, Deb exhaled slowly, shoving away the unease creeping up her spine. She was hungry and wasn’t about to let the past dictate whether or not she ate dinner.

Sharon, the waitress who had worked here for as long as Deb could remember, approached with a pad and pen. The woman didn’t smile, but she didn’t scowl either. Progress, Deb supposed.

“What’ll it be?” Sharon asked, her voice clipped as if she wasn’t entirely sure Deb deserved to be waited on. If she were Sharon, she would feel the same way. She had helped spread the rumor Linda Cadel had started about Sharon’s husband having an affair. She had since apologized, but the damage had been done. Her stomach churned at the thought of how many lives she affected.

“Burger and fries,” Deb answered, handing over the menu. “And coffee.”

Sharon nodded, scribbling it down before walking away without another word.

“Thank you,” Deb said, but Sharon was already walking away.

Deb leaned back with a sigh, trying not to let the tension settle too deep. She knew what people thought of her. That was the thing about reputations...they clung to you like a stain that wouldn’t wash out. It wasn’t their problem. It was her problem. She had done this and deserved their mistrust.

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