Page 23 of Coco and the Misfits

But for some reason, I trust him, and not only because he’s the owner of the Alpha Bet bar. Rich, powerful people can be assholes, too, but he exudes an aura of protectiveness and old-time gallantry.

We climb the stairs, his arm once more around me, and June follows like a sulking shadow. When we reach my door, she moves to stand in front of us.

“Now I’ll take over,” she says. “I’ll stay with Coco.”

He doesn’t remove his arm from around me, though, only nods at me. “That’s up to Coco to decide.”

I look up into his deep-set eyes and I know I want him here with me. “Would you stay?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I’d feel much better watching over you, knowing you’re safe.”

“What? Are you guys serious? Coco, are you okay staying with him?” June demands.

I turn to glare at her. “It’s my decision.”

“But after what happened...?”

“He defended me. He saved me. He was there for me when I was in danger.”

Her face falls and I realize what I’ve implied. “I see. I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

“June...”

“We had no idea anything was wrong,” she says miserably. “It’s never happened before. You like dancing alone, and we were looking for you?—”

“I know.” I grab her arm. “Honey, I know. It’s none of your fault.”

Her mouth twists. “Okay. Okay, it’s just that I feel so bad. You were almost kidnapped and I had no idea.”

“June. Babe.” I grab both her arms. “Stop it. No guilt, please. I’m fine. See?”

She gives a jerky nod.

“I’m only saying, I trust him. If he wouldn’t mind staying tonight...”

“I would like that very much,” he says in his deep voice and something in me relaxes at the thought of not spending the night alone. He’s so confident, so self-assured. “I only want to stay and make sure she’s okay and locks up. Those guys probably have no idea who she is and where she lives, but I’d feel better being here.”

June nods again. “Fine, then. You know where to find me if you need me.”

She flounces to the stairs and I sigh. I feel like I’m failing her but I can’t deal with that tonight. I don’t have the energy.

It’s been a hard night for her, but an even harder one for me. I hope she can see that, come tomorrow. See that I need Atticus here with me.

“Keys,” he says softly and I blink, realizing I’ve been standing still for a long while.

I fish inside my purse, locating the key, but when I try to insert it into the lock, I fail. My hand is still shaking too badly.

“Here,” he says, “let me,” and pries it out of my hand. Quickly, he opens and ushers me inside.

He gazes down at me from his considerable height, something shifting in his green gaze. It’s not pity or condescension. None of that, or I wouldn’t have been able to stand it. No, it looks like something... tender.

Which is exactly what I need.

When he opens his arms, I walk into them without hesitation. When he leads me to my bedroom and sits me on the bed, I let him take off my sandals and lift my feet onto the mattress. Every gesture is careful, spartan. Light. No pressure, no weight behind it, and yet exactly what I need right now.

Bruises I hadn’t noticed before make themselves known as I settle against my mound of soft pillows. My stack of romance books on the white nightstand is comforting.

“Shall I make you a tea?” he asks, standing up, and I blink at the gruff alpha offering such a thing. “Or some hot milk?”

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