Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“Yeah, from the war,” he replied. “Ava, they told me I have PTSD and that I’m going to probably live with it all my life. The memories aren’t going to go away, but in order to manage them I have to get enough rest, stay away from drugs and alcohol, and not get into situations where stress rules the roost.”

“Then why are you doing this job?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he admitted with a wry grin. “I mean, really, what’s so hard about babysitting a college girl whose ex-boyfriend is a jerk?”

I laughed a little as I heard him sum up what in any other world would have been a super easy security job, but I felt bad that my situation had caused him such pain and anguish.

“Yeah, that sounds like a cakewalk…if it wasn’t me,” I replied with a grin. “I’m sorry, Brian.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said as he reached up and cupped my face. “It’s mine for not managing it better.”

“Brian, what are we going to do?” I asked.

“We need to call the police and tell them what’s going on,” he said seriously. “I can’t maintain protection on my own, Ava. Dominic is off the rails and we need help here.”

“We can’t!” I cried. “You know that! You know I can’t get the police involved in this!”

“Ava, it’s not safe,” he said. “Not for you, and now, not for me either.”

I looked at him for

a long while before I got up off the floor and looked down at him as I quietly replied, “Fine. If you need to back out and let my father hire someone else, then I understand.”

PROTECTOR #5

After I’d laid down the law on going to the police, Brian looked at me silently, then rolled over and went back to sleep without another word. I lay awake for a long time thinking about the consequences of calling the police and about what the stress of having to work this situation alone was doing to a man I was quickly becoming attached to, but in the end, I couldn’t see how we could involve the police in this without it becoming a nightmare for my father. Right before dawn, I drifted off into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, I woke up early and moved to the living room, where I sat on the couch staring out the window as Brian slept. There were lots of things about him that I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand them. He’d obviously been through a lot in the military, and the effects of his experiences were rearing their ugly heads as he tried to balance his job with what he was feeling for me. Every day we grew closer, but was it really a bond that could last or was it simply the result of being cooped up together in this emergency situation that forced us to keep moving closer?

I was tired of running. I was tired of being afraid of Dominic. I’d spent a year trying to extract myself from his choking grip, and now I was right back to where I started. When would it ever end?

“Hey, you’re up early,” Brian said as he emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” I replied in a tired voice before looking up at him. “You okay?”

“Huh?” he gave me a confused look. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, last night was kind of intense,” I said.

“Oh, that,” he looked away and then walked toward the window. “Yeah, well…”

“You want to talk about it?” I asked.

With his back to me, he shook his head and then walked over, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the news. The sound of the morning’s activities filled the silent room, acting as a deterrent for more questions. He didn’t want to talk with me, but I didn’t accept this.

“Brian,” I said loud enough to be heard over the television. “You know there are places where you can get help for PTSD, right?”

“I don’t recall asking you for advice,” he said in a low voice.

“I’m just saying that there are ways you can deal with this!” I replied. I wasn’t going to let him brush me off that easily.

“You know what, Ava?” he growled. “I think it would be wise if you’d clean up your own house before you start trying to air out mine.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I replied in an annoyed tone.

“I’m just saying that before you try and make me deal with my problems, you should probably deal with your own, first!” he shouted. “You are a hot mess, you know that, don’t you?”

“Me? I’m a hot mess?” I yelled back. “Oh, that’s a good one! The guy who can’t make it through the night without screaming in his sleep tells me I’m a hot mess. Very nice.”