The Broken Protector Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement
Advertisement

She was young and pretty, but young people can have heart conditions, high blood pressure, who knows. Then there’s drinking and overdoses.

That doesn’t make her death any less sad.

But it does make it a bit easier to look at this as wretched bad luck, and not me making a massively bad decision to stay here.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

But my nose is stinging as I lift my head.

My worn reflection in the vanity mirror across the cozy bedroom of the two-room suite gazes back at me.

I look like hell. No surprise.

Lines under my eyes, red around the edges, nose pink.

Looks like concealer’s going to be my best friend today.

Especially since I need to get off my butt and get dressed for a meeting with my employers—something that feels more like a real job interview than the brief call and paperwork that led me out here.

I can’t let them think one brutal shock will chase me out of town.

Six a.m., the clock says.

Perfect.

I always wake up with the sunrise, no alarm, even when I want to sleep in.

Sometimes it’s annoying. This time, I’m grateful.

What would have happened in my dream if that girl finished pressing down on my throat?

My meeting’s not until nine o’clock sharp, so I’ve got time to take a long shower and breathe in the steam. It helps calm the jitters.

I take my sweet time getting dressed, putting on my camouflage to face the day.

It’s not that I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.

I just know the assumptions some parents might make about girls in tight jeans with visible tattoos in remote little towns.

I’m definitely not giving anyone reasons to reject me before I have a chance to prove I can be a good teacher to their kids.

Believe me, I want to be a good teacher.

I want to be the reason these kids smile, just like how so many of my teachers stepped up for me when my childhood wasn’t great.

And no, that’s not something I like to dwell on.

So I blow-dry my hair, do my makeup until I look just a little too doe-eyed and innocent, and then throw on a comfy pair of black fitted pants, a white sleeveless silk blouse, and a loose slate-blue knit cardigan. Thick enough to conceal my tattoo but not so thick I’ll sweat half to death in the late August heat.

Perfect.

With one last nod in the mirror for good luck, I grab my purse and head downstairs.

Janelle intercepts me as I step into the lobby, pulling me into a warm hug before I can say anything besides “Oof!”

I should’ve expected this.

She did it last night, too, after her police chief hubby turned me over and explained the situation. All hugs and apologies, like she was somehow responsible for the gruesome discovery in that house.

I pat her back a little stiffly, waiting for her to let me go.

“Good morning to you, too,” I manage around a near mouthful of her shoulder.

“Oh, good morning, hon.” She pulls back, gripping my shoulders, her worried eyes searching my face. “Are you all right? No bad dreams?”

I smile faintly. “Tiny nightmare. Probably to be expected, but I promise you I’m fine.”

The look she gives me, I can’t quite figure out what it is.

Either she doesn’t believe me... or she pities me terribly.

“They really do raise them tougher in the city, don’t they?” She smiles. Before I can ask what she means by that, she squeezes my upper arms. “Come on. I just finished putting out breakfast. Complimentary with the stay.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

I start to say I’m not hungry.

I never get the chance.

Next thing I know, I’m sitting in a hardback chair with a lake view and a steaming cup of coffee. There’s a plate piled high with eggs, scones, and sausage in front of me.

Janelle Bowden is a whirlwind. The summer tourists must love her.

I don’t know what to think, honestly, but it’s comforting.

A little bit of forced normalcy after yesterday’s—well, everything.

Murmuring my thanks, it gets easier to smile like I mean it as I tuck in.

Breakfast is divine.

Good enough that I’ve cleaned my plate without realizing it. Maybe Janelle knew what I needed more than I did because I hadn’t recognized just how shaky I felt until the sensation starts to settle down with a full belly.

My hands are less trembly, the unease in the pit of my stomach a smidge faded.

I know. I know it’s normal to feel this way right now.

I’m just not very good at forgiving myself.

But I feel less like a nervous wreck and more like I’m about to split my zipper as I thank Janelle one more time and head out to my car with a little note in her loopy handwriting, telling me how to get to the town hall.

It’s easy enough to find, this big white building with a red roof and a steeple like a church, shingles gleaming in the morning sun.


Advertisement

Advertisement