Hunter is standing in the hallway, both hands in his jeans, black sneakers pressed together.
"You look older." I push my door shut. Hug my purse to my shoulder. "You're turning forty-five, right?"
"Feels like it."
I press my lips together, even though that will mess up my lipstick.
I already feel safer. Less vulnerable.
All it takes is his proximity.
I trust him to keep me safe.
I guess that's what Brendon wanted.
I should hate it.
But I don't.
I really, really don't.