Page 34 of Saved from Obsession

Fear is a thick band around my chest, squeezing until I can barely breathe. Sucking at air in gasping breaths, I look around the room frantically, trying to figure out what to do. Hide in the closet? Under the bed? Stay on the bed, just where Leo left me?

I feel too exposed, too vulnerable just sitting here out in the open. So I get onto the floor, putting the bed between me and the door. I’m not really any safer here–I know that rationally—but it still makes me feel just the tiniest bit better.

But I’m still alone in the nearly black room, and the only person who makes me feel safe is out there, chasing the man who’s been stalking me. A man who might be in the house at this very moment, intent on harming me.

Or harming Leo.

How can I be so stupid?Leois the one who’s really in danger, not me. Leo and Cole and Rylan are putting themselves at risk, defending me from an unknown attacker. An attacker who probably has a weapon—a gun, aknife—and won’t hesitate to use it on any one of them.

I’m getting more and more panicked, gray dots dancing in my vision, air barely making into my lungs. Horrific images are flashing through my mind—Leo hurt, shot, stabbed, bleeding. And Cole—what if something happens and he can’t get back to Maya? The sweet woman who went out of her way to help Leo plan the perfect date for me?

Oh, God. What if that was our first and only date? What if the stalker catches Leo unawares andkillshim?

In the midst of my total freakout, the faint voice of reason works its way toward me.Stop panicking.This is what the Blade and Arrow guys do. I pinch my arm hard; the pain dragging my attention away from all the horrible things going through my head.

Forcing myself to take deep breaths, I try to bring my panic down to a more manageable level. And I keep telling myself,Leo is fine, so are Cole and Rylan. They’re professionals who know what they’re doing. After a few minutes, or maybe a few hours—I can’t tell because I left my phone on the nightstand and I’m too chicken to go over there to get it—I’m close to believing it.

Sitting hidden and huddled on the floor, chilled by the perspiration slowly drying on me, my hands still shaking as they hold on to my legs, a flash of clarity strikes me.

This isn’t who I want to be. I’m a grown woman, not a child, and I don’t want to be hiding from my fears anymore. Not that I want to run out there and face down my stalker—I’m not completely insane—but I don’t want to allow my fear to control me, either.

That’s why I’m practicing self-defense, so I’ll be prepared if I ever need to use it. And that’s why I’m going to get off the floor, sit on the bed, and wait as calmly as I can for Leo to come back. I don’t want him to come in here and see me hiding like a little girl. I want him to see a woman who is conquering her fear.

So I gather my courage and get back on the bed, grabbing my phone as I do it. Then I stare at the screen, counting the minutes, and try really hard to keep my panic from resurfacing. I think I’m doing pretty well, but I can’t stop my hands from trembling.

Another five minutes go by before the alarm switches off—the abrupt silence feels strange to my ears, almost like I’ve been put in a vacuum. But that’s a good sign, right? If the alarm has stopped, that means one of the guys turned it off.

And they wouldn’t do that unless the threat was over. Right?

I still don’t know the answer and five more minutes have dragged by. And whoever said a watched pot never boils hasn’t stared at their phone desperately waiting for their boyfriend to come back after chasing down a crazed stalker. But that’s not as nice of a saying or a concept, so I guess the boiling pot saying is better.

After another five torturous minutes go by, the doorknob starts to rattle, and even though I’m trying not to freak out, my pulse has other ideas. It jumps to hummingbird speed, my heart fluttering madly in my chest.

Please let this be Leo.

“Georgia? I’m coming in.” As I hear his familiar, rumbly voice, tears of relief spring free, spilling down my cheeks.

Then he walks through the door, and I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life.

Every muscle in my body unclenches, my chest finally loosening enough for me to take a full breath. I can’t move for a second as all the pent up fear and stress makes my legs feel all wobbly. All I can do is stare at Leo, my gaze raking up and down his body, searching for any sign of injury.

He walks toward me, his forehead creased with concern, and says gently, “Sweetheart. It’s all over. Are you okay?”

I would have thought the words—it’s all over—would have been the best thing I could have asked for. But it’s not. It’s seeing Leo here in front of me, no apparent injuries, knowing that he’s safe.

Leo is approaching me slowly, his hands outstretched like he thinks he might frighten me. As if I’m a wounded animal ready to flee. But the only place I’m running is into his arms, and I force my shaky leg muscles to do what I want them to.

Leaping off the bed, I fling myself at Leo, slamming into his chest. His arms come around me immediately, caging me into his comforting embrace. I push my face into his neck, inhaling the slight scent of musk and salt, dampening his skin with my tears.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I gasp, my heart still thumping. “I was so worried about you.”

“Ah, sweetheart.” Leo leans me back, cupping my cheek as he looks at me. “You don’t have to worry about me. I just want to make sureyou’realright.“ He pauses, inspecting me, searching my eyes with his. “Areyou alright, Georgia? I know that had to be scary.”

Gone is the dangerous soldier I saw when he left the bedroom an hour ago. Now his expression is nothing but tender and caring, his gaze soft and worried.

”Iwasscared,“ I admit. “But then I remembered who you are, what you do. And I knew you’d protect me.”

“With my life.” Leo’s eyes blaze with intensity. “And you won’t have to worry about that man anymore. That’s a promise.”

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