I released my hold on Beckett and stepped back. I missed his warmth immediately, the pressure of his body against mine. Instead of dwelling on that, I moved to the refrigerator and pulled out two Cherry Cokes.
Beckett grabbed plates and silverware. We’d begun to move with a sort of synchronicity. A silent rhythm that didn’t need words. It was comforting. The knowledge that someone knew how you moved, what you would likely do before you even did it.
Beckett carried two plates heaped with an assortment of food over to the breakfast nook. “How was the rest of your day? Have fun with Birdie and Sage?”
I only faltered a little in my walk to the table. But Beckett caught sight of the slight hitch in my step.
“Did something happen? Brandon didn’t show up, did he?”
I slid into the chair opposite Beckett. “No. That would take far too much effort.” The one comfort I had when it came to Brandon was that he was lazy. My father would always complain about it, threaten to fire him, and then end up doing nothing.
“Addie…”
I picked up something that almost looked like a fried pastry. “What’s this?”
“Nice try. Spill.”
I dropped the item to my plate. “I found a nasty note in my bike baske
t when I left your office. I’m sure a lovely parting gift from Mr. Maxwell.”
“What did it say?” Beckett gritted out.
“Something about me being a whore.”
“We need to tell Hayes.”
I looked up at Beckett. “Why? It’s not like he’ll confess.”
“File a restraining order—one against Brandon and one against your dad.”
I twisted my napkin tightly around my fingers. “It’ll only make things worse.”
“It gives you a line of defense.”
“Do you really think a piece of paper will keep one of them from hurting me if they want to?” Walter Crichet’s face flashed in my mind. “They have too many friends around here.”
Beckett stilled. “Did something else happen?”
I pulled harder on the ends of the napkin. No lies—even if the truth had nausea and shame welling up inside me. “I ran into an old friend of my dad’s the other day.”
Beckett stayed quiet, letting the silence prompt me for more.
“He said my father promised me to him. That I was his, and he’d be back.”
A muscle in Beckett’s cheek fluttered in a rapid rhythm. “Like an arranged marriage?”
I nodded. “It took me years to realize that he’d never do that because he’d lose the person who cooked and cleaned for him. But at the time, I believed him. It scared the hell out of me.”
“How old were you?” he gritted out.
“Fifteen or sixteen.”
Beckett let loose a stream of curses. “We have to bring Hayes in on this.”
I shook my head. The idea of someone else knowing these intimate details of my past made me want to throw up. “He hasn’t been back. He was probably just trying to scare me. And trust me when I say that restraining orders mean nothing to these people. It’ll only make them want to hurt me to make a point.”
That muscle in his cheek picked up a rapid rhythm again. “You won’t be alone for them to have the chance, but Hayes can lock them up if they come within a hundred yards of you.”