Not walking away
2801 Words
Zoey
The conversation about the messages and the threats should have stayed at the front of my mind.
It didn't.
Not when Drew was standing only a few feet away.
Not when he looked the way he did.
The gray sweatpants.
The damp hair.
The sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms.
It was unfair, really.
His gaze traveled from our intertwined hands to my legs before shooting right back up to find my eyes already on him.
For a heartbeat, neither of us looked away.
Then Drew’s jaw tightened.
A warning.
Not for me.
For himself.
I recognized it immediately.
The same look he wore whenever he was forcing himself to stay calm.
Controlled.
Disciplined.
Dangerous.
The realization sent a rush of warmth through me.
“Drew,” I said softly.
His thumb brushed across the back of my hand.
The tiny movement nearly stole my breath.
Before either of us could say another word, a sharp sound shattered the silence.
Buzz.
Both our heads turned toward the kitchen counter.
My phone.
The screen lit up.
The sudden interruption felt almost cruel.
The spell between us broke instantly.
Drew released my hand and crossed the room before I could even react.
Bodyguard mode.
Focused.
Alert.
The transformation was immediate.
The softness disappeared from his expression.
The warmth.
Gone.
Only vigilance remained.
A knot formed in my stomach.
Because there was only one reason a random message would make him move that fast.
Something was wrong.
Drew picked up the phone.
His eyes scanned the screen.
Every trace of color drained from his face.
My pulse spiked.
“Drew?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Which terrified me more than if he had.
Slowly, he turned the screen toward me.
A single message stared back.
Still hiding behind him, Zoey?
My blood ran cold.
Below it was another.
It won’t matter much longer.
The room seemed to tilt.
The warmth from moments ago vanished beneath a wave of dread.
“They know you’re here,” I whispered.
Drew’s expression turned grim.
“No.”
The word came out hard.
Controlled.
Measured.
Which somehow made it worse.
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean no?”
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“They don’t know where you are.”
“Then how—”
“They know I’m with you.”
Silence.
A terrible silence.
Because I understood exactly what he meant.
The messages had changed.
Before, they had been aimed at me.
Now they were aimed at him too.
Whoever was behind this wasn’t guessing anymore.
They were watching.
Learning.
Getting closer.
Drew set the phone down carefully.
Too carefully.
The movement screamed tension.
His hand drifted toward the small earpiece resting on the counter.
A habit.
An unconscious reaction whenever danger increased.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
His eyes met mine.
For a second, he hesitated.
I hated that.
Because Drew never hesitated unless the truth was bad.
“There was another security breach last night.”
The words landed like a punch.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you worrying.”
I stared at him.
“Drew.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously, Drew.”
A guilty smile flickered briefly across his face.
“I know.”
I folded my arms.
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me.
The sound disappeared quickly.
The fear remained.
“How bad is it?”
The question hung between us.
His expression darkened.
Bad enough.
That was the answer.
Even before he spoke.
“Someone accessed information they shouldn’t have.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What kind of information?”
“The safe house network.”
Ice flooded my veins.
The safe houses.
Plural.
Not this location specifically.
But a system.
A pattern.
A trail.
And if someone was smart enough—
“They could eventually find me.”
Drew didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Outside, snow battered the windows.
Inside, the house suddenly felt far less secure.
My gaze drifted toward the front door.
Toward the dark windows.
Toward the endless white landscape beyond them.
A trap.
The realization hit hard.
We weren’t hiding.
We were waiting.
Waiting to see who reached us first.
The authorities.
Or whoever was sending those messages.
Drew stepped closer.
Not as the man who had nearly kissed me.
Not as the man who had admitted he couldn’t stop thinking about me.
As my protector.
As the person determined to keep me alive.
“Listen to me.”
His voice was steady.
Strong.
Reliable.
The kind of voice people followed into impossible situations.
My eyes lifted to his.
“No matter what happens next, you’re not facing it alone.”
Emotion tightened my throat.
Because I believed him.
Completely.
And that terrified me almost as much as the threats did.
Because somewhere along the way, Drew had become more than the man assigned to protect me.
He had become the person I trusted most.
The person I looked for first when I walked into a room.
The person whose absence I noticed immediately.
And if this danger got worse—
If someone forced me to choose—
I already knew what would break me.
It wasn’t the fear of what might happen to me.
It was the fear of what might happen to him.
As if sensing exactly where my thoughts had gone, Drew reached out and gently tilted my chin upward.
“Hey.”
I swallowed.
“Hey.”
His gaze softened.
“We’re going to figure this out.”
I wanted to believe him.
Maybe I did.
But deep down, a terrible feeling settled in my chest.
The kind that arrives before everything changes.
And judging by the look in Drew’s eyes, he felt it too.
A man shouldn't be allowed to look that good while discussing danger and security breaches.
I wrapped both hands around my coffee mug and forced myself to stare out the window.
Anywhere except at him.
Unfortunately, Drew noticed everything.
"Why are you avoiding looking at me?"
My heart stumbled.
"I am not."
A lie.
A terrible one.
His low chuckle filled the room.
"You are."
I took a sip of coffee.
"Maybe I'm trying to have one normal thought today."
That earned me a raised eyebrow.
"And looking at me prevents that?"
I groaned.
"There you go again."
"Again what?"
"You know exactly what you're doing."
The corner of his mouth lifted.
That slow, confident smile was dangerous.
Not because it was arrogant.
Because it was earned.
Because he knew the effect he had on me.
And somehow that made it worse.
Drew took a step closer.
Then another.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Warmer.
My pulse quickened.
"Drew."
"Hm?"
"Personal space exists for a reason."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Does it?"
I hated how much that question affected me.
I hated it even more because he knew it.
The silence stretched.
Neither of us moving.
Neither of us looking away.
Outside, snow continued falling.
Inside, the air felt charged.
Like the moment before lightning strikes.
"You should sit down," I said.
"Why?"
"Because you're making me nervous."
Something softened in his expression.
Not amusement.
Something gentler.
More dangerous.
"You're not nervous."
I swallowed.
No.
Not nervous.
Aware.
Very aware.
Of him.
Of the way he looked at me.
Of the way every conversation somehow felt like standing on the edge of something neither of us wanted to name.
His voice dropped lower.
"What are you feeling?"
I should have lied.
Instead, honesty slipped out.
"Too much."
His gaze held mine.
Neither of us spoke.
For one endless moment, the world disappeared.
No enemies.
No threats.
No messages.
Just this.
Just us.
Drew exhaled slowly.
As though he was fighting his own battle.
"You make it difficult."
My breath caught.
"Difficult?"
"To focus."
The confession landed somewhere deep inside me.
Because Drew wasn't the type of man who admitted weakness.
Ever.
Yet here he was.
Looking directly at me.
Giving me a truth I hadn't asked for.
My heart squeezed painfully.
"Drew..."
He closed the distance between us.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to make me aware of every inch separating us.
"I spend half my time trying to keep you safe."
His voice was rough now.
"And the other half?"
His eyes searched mine.
"The other half trying not to think about you."
The room fell silent.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
For once, the confident words disappeared.
For once, neither of us had a joke ready.
The honesty between us was too big.
Too real.
I could feel the weight of everything unsaid.
Every almost-touch.
Every interrupted moment.
Every look that lingered longer than it should have.
Drew reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
The simple gesture nearly destroyed my composure.
His hand lingered for a second.
Then another.
Neither of us moved away.
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my gaze.
The movement was small.
Almost invisible.
But I noticed.
And judging by the way his jaw tightened, he knew I noticed.
The tension was unbearable.
Not because of what was happening.
Because of what wasn't.
Because neither of us seemed willing to cross the line.
Yet neither of us wanted to step back either.
"You should stop looking at me like that," I whispered.
A faint smile appeared.
"Like what?"
I laughed softly.
"You know exactly like what."
"Maybe I don't."
Liar.
My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could hear it.
His gaze never left mine.
The intensity of it wrapped around me.
Not possessive.
Not controlling.
Just focused.
As though I was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
And maybe, in that moment, I was.
The realization left me breathless.
"Drew."
"Yeah?"
"What happens when this is over?"
For the first time all morning, uncertainty flickered across his face.
The question surprised him.
Good.
It surprised me too.
His voice was quiet when he answered.
"I don't know."
Honest.
Completely honest.
"But I know I'm not walking away from you."
Emotion tightened my chest.
The sincerity in his voice made it impossible to look away.
The confident bodyguard.
The dangerous man everyone feared.
For a second, all of that disappeared.
And I saw only Drew.
The man underneath.
The one who worried.
The one who cared.
The one who looked at me like I mattered.
His hand found mine.
Slowly.
Giving me every opportunity to pull away.
I didn't.
Our fingers intertwined naturally.
Comfortably.
As though they'd always belonged there.
Neither of us spoke.
Words suddenly felt unnecessary.
The connection between us said enough.
Outside, the storm continued.
But inside the house, time seemed to slow.
The mystery.
The danger.
The uncertainty.
It could wait.
Just for a little while.
Because for this moment, there was only the warmth of his hand in mine.
Only the way he looked at me.
Only the impossible tension that seemed to grow stronger every day.
And the frightening realization that neither of us wanted it to end.
His gaze traveled from our intertwined hands to my legs before shooting right back up to find my eyes already on him.
For a heartbeat, neither of us looked away.
Then Drew’s jaw tightened.
A warning.
Not for me.
For himself.
I recognized it immediately.
The same look he wore whenever he was forcing himself to stay calm.
Controlled.
Disciplined.
Dangerous.
The realization sent a rush of warmth through me.
“Drew,” I said softly.
His thumb brushed across the back of my hand.
The tiny movement nearly stole my breath.
Before either of us could say another word, a sharp sound shattered the silence.
Buzz.
Both our heads turned toward the kitchen counter.
My phone.
The screen lit up.
The sudden interruption felt almost cruel.
The spell between us broke instantly.
Drew released my hand and crossed the room before I could even react.
Bodyguard mode.
Focused.
Alert.
The transformation was immediate.
The softness disappeared from his expression.
The warmth.
Gone.
Only vigilance remained.
A knot formed in my stomach.
Because there was only one reason a random message would make him move that fast.
Something was wrong.
Drew picked up the phone.
His eyes scanned the screen.
Every trace of color drained from his face.
My pulse spiked.
“Drew?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Which terrified me more than if he had.
Slowly, he turned the screen toward me.
A single message stared back.
Still hiding behind him, Zoey?
My blood ran cold.
Below it was another.
It won’t matter much longer.
The room seemed to tilt.
The warmth from moments ago vanished beneath a wave of dread.
“They know you’re here,” I whispered.
Drew’s expression turned grim.
“No.”
The word came out hard.
Controlled.
Measured.
Which somehow made it worse.
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean no?”
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“They don’t know where you are.”
“Then how—”
“They know I’m with you.”
Silence.
A terrible silence.
Because I understood exactly what he meant.
The messages had changed.
Before, they had been aimed at me.
Now they were aimed at him too.
Whoever was behind this wasn’t guessing anymore.
They were watching.
Learning.
Getting closer.
Drew set the phone down carefully.
Too carefully.
The movement screamed tension.
His hand drifted toward the small earpiece resting on the counter.
A habit.
An unconscious reaction whenever danger increased.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
His eyes met mine.
For a second, he hesitated.
I hated that.
Because Drew never hesitated unless the truth was bad.
“There was another security breach last night.”
The words landed like a punch.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you worrying.”
I stared at him.
“Drew.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously, Drew.”
A guilty smile flickered briefly across his face.
“I know.”
I folded my arms.
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me.
The sound disappeared quickly.
The fear remained.
“How bad is it?”
The question hung between us.
His expression darkened.
Bad enough.
That was the answer.
Even before he spoke.
“Someone accessed information they shouldn’t have.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What kind of information?”
“The safe house network.”
Ice flooded my veins.
The safe houses.
Plural.
Not this location specifically.
But a system.
A pattern.
A trail.
And if someone was smart enough—
“They could eventually find me.”
Drew didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Outside, snow battered the windows.
Inside, the house suddenly felt far less secure.
My gaze drifted toward the front door.
Toward the dark windows.
Toward the endless white landscape beyond them.
A trap.
The realization hit hard.
We weren’t hiding.
We were waiting.
Waiting to see who reached us first.
The authorities.
Or whoever was sending those messages.
Drew stepped closer.
Not as the man who had nearly kissed me.
Not as the man who had admitted he couldn’t stop thinking about me.
As my protector.
As the person determined to keep me alive.
“Listen to me.”
His voice was steady.
Strong.
Reliable.
The kind of voice people followed into impossible situations.
My eyes lifted to his.
“No matter what happens next, you’re not facing it alone.”
Emotion tightened my throat.
Because I believed him.
Completely.
And that terrified me almost as much as the threats did.
Because somewhere along the way, Drew had become more than the man assigned to protect me.
He had become the person I trusted most.
The person I looked for first when I walked into a room.
The person whose absence I noticed immediately.
And if this danger got worse—
If someone forced me to choose—
I already knew what would break me.
It wasn’t the fear of what might happen to me.
It was the fear of what might happen to him.
As if sensing exactly where my thoughts had gone, Drew reached out and gently tilted my chin upward.
“Hey.”
I swallowed.
“Hey.”
His gaze softened.
“We’re going to figure this out.”
I wanted to believe him.
Maybe I did.
But deep down, a terrible feeling settled in my chest.
The kind that arrives before everything changes.
And judging by the look in Drew’s eyes, he felt it too.
- Writer
