Chapter Four
Savannah
Okay, okay, you can do this.I bite my lip and knock on the door, waiting for the command to enter. It comes after a moment, and I slide my hand into the sword handle, squeeze, and push. Logan is sitting on the couch, leaning over the table and looking intently at his laptop. I wait, holding on to the door for support. I’m not sure how to even start this conversation.
“Logan?” I whisper.
He raises his head, and when he sees me, his eyes go wide and soften.
“May I have a word with you?”
His smile runs along his lips as he closes his laptop.
“Of course, Savannah. Come in, take a seat.” He points to the couch in front of him. “How was your appointment with Dr. Roberts?”
“Interesting.”
“I can see that. Have you made your decision on whether you want to stay or go home?”
I let out a long breath. Okay, here it goes. “I-I think I’d like to stay.”
His expression speaks volumes, though I’m not sure why he cares so much. What am I to him but some head case?
“That’s a smart idea, Savannah.” He moves over to his filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, which he places in front of me. “Like I said before, if you wish to stay, you’ll need to sign a few waivers, an NDA. That is a non-disclosure agreement.”
I nod, glancing at the papers.
“This is a document stating that while you’re here and after you leave, you will never give up the location of this house. You’ll never discuss why you’re here with anyone outside of this house. If you leave the property, you’ll have an escort with you at all times. That’s for your own protection as well as ours, Savannah. Someone could be following you, and you could lead them right back to us. Know that you can leave at any time, but there’s no coming back—we will not protect you a second time. Do you think you can handle all this, being under this much protection? This many rules? You will be totally isolated from your past life.”
“I’ve already lost seven months of my life to those bastards. If this is what it takes to gain it back, then so be it.”
I read everything carefully, making sure I understand every word.
“Pen, please.” He hands me one from his breast pocket, and I stroke the pen over the black line—Savannah Miller.
He holds out his hand. “Welcome to our house.”
I slip my hand in his, noting how small mine is in comparison.
Something flickers over his face, and he pulls away and leans back.
I hop to my feet, not wanting to take up any more of his time. I need to get some air; I feel like I just signed my life away.
I pause at the door. “Thank you, Logan, for saving me.”
His smile reaches his eyes. “It was my pleasure, Savannah.”
I find Abigail waist deep in laundry. She looks beyond stressed, and at the same time has a few of the guys asking her a million and one questions, so I leave her be. She doesn’t need to babysit me. I am familiar enough with the house and grounds now to be somewhat comfortable.
I walk down to the lake and around the shore. It is becoming one of my favorite places. Everything is so quiet. Not ‘empty’ quiet the way my prison was. This is different. It’s a comfortable, peaceful place. I don’t feel as lonely because of all the wonderful, soft sounds that surround me. It’s funny how this kind of quiet isn’t really quiet at all. Knowing there are men hidden in trees all around also brings a sense of comfort. I miss my father terribly, and I miss Lynn even more. I even miss my job, but I think living in constant fear would destroy me more than the prison. Yes, the decision to stay is the right choice for me—at least, I hope.
Poor Abigail is still pumping out laundry when I return several hours later. She looks exhausted, so I decide to help her out.
I make my way into the kitchen and open the freezer, pulling out a mountain of steaks. I look at the calendar Abigail refers to every night and see there will be fifteen attending tonight’s dinner. I set out the meat to thaw while prepping the toppings. I wrap large potatoes in tin foil and chop enough carrots to feed a small army. I cut the bottoms off the asparagus and drizzle it with oil, salt, and pepper. While the oven heats, I peel and chop apples, tossing them into three large casserole dishes with cinnamon, sugar, and a little butter, putting an oat crumble over top.
It shouldn’t surprise me that the barbecue is so huge—what isn’t huge around here? But nonetheless, it is very intimidating to light. I finally manage to fire it up and start the potatoes without setting the house on fire.
Within an hour, the kitchen starts to smell lovely. I pull out the three apple crisps, setting them aside to cool.