Page 106 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
She leans closer again, her forehead brushing mine. My monitor betrays me with another rapid beeping run. I swear the machine’s laughing at me.
Bailey doesn’t pull away this time. She stays close, her forehead resting against mine, her hand squeezing mine until our knuckles are white. Her voice is a whisper, just for me. “You threw yourself in front of me without even thinking. I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
“Already did,” I murmur, still dizzy from her kiss.
“No.” She shakes her head, her eyes shining, her lips so close they brush mine when she speaks. “Not really. And I can’t wait to thank you properly.”
My pulse spikes hard enough the monitor shrieks again. Sean groans from the corner. Wesley mutters something under his breath that sounds like “Jesus Christ.” I don’t care. My grin splits wide across my face.
“I’m ready,” I rasp. My voice is low, gravelly, and it makes her shiver. “Soon as they cut me loose from this bed, I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”
She laughs, a sound that’s half joy, half relief, and kisses me again. Softer this time, but just as good. The monitor tattles on me again, beeping frantically like it’s scandalized.
And that’s when the door swings open.
“Alright, break it up,” the doctor says dryly, striding in with a clipboard. He doesn’t even look surprised. “Your heart can’t take another minute of that.”
Bailey jerks back, cheeks flushing. Sean smirks. Wesley hides his grin behind his hand.
“Doc,” I grumble, glaring at him. “You’re killing my game.”
“Your game is what got you here,” he fires back, flipping through notes. “Bullet wound, blood loss, two transfusions. You’re not going anywhere, and you’re definitely not doing anything strenuous.” He raises an eyebrow, pointed. “And I do meananything.”
Bailey hides her face in her hands, laughing quietly. My ears burn, but I can’t stop grinning at her. “Fine,” I mutter, settling back against the pillows. “Guess I’ll behave.”
“For once,” Wesley mutters.
Sean shakes his head, amused despite himself.
“David?” I ask.
Wesley grins at the mention of him. “Super fucking arrested. No bail. Too much of a flight risk. They found fake passports for him and the kids in his house. Tickets to Argentina for all three of them. On top of everything else he did at Friedburg’s. And before.”
“It’s over,” Bailey mutters. She lowers her hands and looks at me, her smile soft, her eyes full of something that makes the pain in my chest feel worth it. She squeezes my hand again. The monitor steadies, the room fills with quiet, and for the first time since the shot tore into me, I let myself close my eyes and breathe.
EPILOGUE
BAILEY
It’s beena month since David’s trial.
I wake up sometimes with my chest tight, expecting to see David’s shadow at the end of the bed. For so many years, that fear was carved into me. The weight of him, the control, the bruises I hid. It doesn’t vanish overnight.
But then I roll over, and he isn’t there.
Instead, Huck is usually sprawled on his back, snoring like a freight train. Sean sleeps light, always the one who stirs if I so much as breathe wrong, his jaw tight even in rest. Wesley sometimes mutters in his sleep, numbers or fragments of code, his brain always busy even when he’s unconscious.
They’re here. And David will never be again.
The trial was brutal, but it was also simple. He tried to kill me. He nearly killed Huck. He could have killed Friedburg, a Hollywood institution. His hired bomber nearly blew my home sky-high. He planned to kidnap our children.
No amount of money, no family name, no high-priced lawyers could spin those facts. The jury barely deliberated. Life without parole.
His life is ruined. It means he doesn’t get out. It means he doesn’t get another chance. It means I don’t have to worry anymore that his shadow will crawl back under my skin.
It means I’m free.
The kids know now too. Not the whole story. They’re too young for all of it. But enough. Enough that Eli doesn’t wonder why Dad disappeared. Enough that Maeve doesn’t think she imagined what she saw.
