Page 38 of The Bodyguard Situation

The evening slips away, and it’s filled with gentle teasing and effortless conversation while we watch TV. Though it’s late, it’s almost like neither of us wants the night to end because, tomorrow morning, the magic that surrounds us might be gone.

Harper’s breathing shifts against my shoulder, and I realize she’s fallen asleep. I’m not paying attention to anything but her. My entire focus narrows down to the woman beside me—her body warm and relaxed, pressed into the curve of my side. It’s easy.

My heart jolts in my chest, a sharp reminder that this—this casual intimacy—is far from simple.

I glance down carefully, trying not to disturb her. Harper’s dark brown hair cascades loosely over my arm, and her lips are parted slightly in peaceful rest. Something about her right now squeezes my heart, pulling at feelings I’ve tried desperately to bury.

“Brody,” she murmurs, shifting even closer, her cheek pressed firmly against my chest.

I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing for a heartbeat before slowly, cautiously relaxing as she holds me tighter. I’m not going anywhere. She’s still asleep.

I click off the TV, and the cabin plunges into a comfortable silence, filled only with the faint crackle of the fireplace. Memories I’ve fought to keep locked away start to surface—Eden’s laugh, Eden’s strength, Eden curled up next to me, just like this.

Tonight, Harper’s warmth against me is a balm, not salt in a wound.

She stirs again, a faint sigh escaping her lips. Gently, I twist my body, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders, lifting her easily. Her eyelids flutter open, her sleepy gaze confused at first, then softening when she realizes it’s me.

“I’m floating,” she says.

“It’s magic,” I whisper.Just like tonight, I think as I walk slowly toward her room.

She curls instinctively closer, her head tucking beneath my chin. The scent of her shampoo—coconut and vanilla—wraps around me.

“You’re carrying me,” she whispers, sounding surprised and something else—grateful maybe.

Her trust—even now, even after the betrayal she’s experienced—hits me harder than I would have expected.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

Carefully, I lower her onto the bed, making sure the pillow supports her head just right. Pulling the blankets around her shoulders, my hand lingers a second too long.

Her eyes briefly meet mine again, heavy yet filled with warmth. “Night, Brody.”

“Night, Harp,” I reply.

“Will you stay?” she asks.

“I can’t, but I’m just a holler away, okay?” I say, forcing myself to step away.

Closing the door, I stand alone in the dimly lit hallway. I exhale deeply, tension knotting between my shoulder blades. This—whatever’s unfolding between Harper and me—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s fucking terrifying. And as much as I want to bust through that door and hold her until she falls asleep, I can’t. But as I return to the living room, the spot on my shoulder where her head rested still feels warm, like a part of her remains.

Maybe I’m losing this fight against my own emotions, but tonight, for the first time in forever, I don’t want to keep running from them.

A lingering smile touches my lips, and I realize I don’t feel weighed down by my past. Instead, there’s a flicker of hope, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, something good can come from all this chaos. Maybe, in some universe, Harper and I can be something more.

I chuckle to myself, shaking my head—because she’s the one who’s supposed to see the silver lining in shitty situations, not me.

Maybe it’s because she is one, and damn did she shine bright tonight.

* * *

I wake early,muscles tight and aching from the couch and the restless night spent wrestling with memories and emotions I’d buried. Harper being in the next room didn’t help matters. It only reminded me of how easily she’d slipped beneath my carefully maintained armor. I’m teetering a dangerous line between protecting her and falling for her.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I step outside into the brisk morning air and lock the cabin. The property is wrapped in a hazy dawn, the sky streaked in hues of muted oranges and pale pinks. Wisps of clouds stream across the sky, and for some reason, it feels lighter, like it’s a new beginning to something exciting. My breath smokes in front of me as I move to the car that’s covered in a layer of frost.

I take the short five-minute drive down the mountain to the small store that carries a few groceries for those who don’t want to drive all the way to town. I grab more groceries than I intended, enough to last us at least five or six more days. I double up on bacon, sausage, eggs, bread, milk, and peanut butter cups. They’re Harper’s favorite.

I pay and quickly rush back to the cabin. After I park, I get out of the car and grab the bags, knowing I’ve been gone for less than fifteen minutes. Through the kitchen window, movement catches my eye.

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