Beau was a bully. This wouldn’t end well—for Beau.
“And just what are you gonna do about it?” he spat, spittle landing in dots on Cosette’s neck.
In a blink, Wilder had inserted himself between the two of them. He faced Beau, put his palm flush against Cosette’s belly and guided her behind him, leaving his hand resting against her. The feel of his warmth seeping through the fabric of her dress brought her comfort as well as butterflies.
“When I was in fourth grade, two sixth grade bullies would take my milk money. Every. Single. Day.”
Where in the world was this going?
“You know what I did about it?”
Uh-oh.
“Nothing.”
Beau chuckled. “And you’re gonna do nothin’ about this, either. This is between me and my old lady.”
Wilder’s face appeared relaxed, except for that one little tick in his jaw when Beau called her his. She wasn’t his. She belonged to nobody but herself.
Wilder cocked his head, pressed his hand more firmly into her belly as he guided her another step back. “The reason I did nothing wasn’t out of fear. I didn’t care because...I just don’t like milk.”
“Wilder,” Cosette whispered. Now was not the time for one of his many anecdotes.
“But then they started bullying the milk money from my sister Meghan, and Meghan loved her chocolate milk. Every day at one fifteen. So I had to get involved. Because she was my baby sister and I cared about her.”
Uh-oh. His voice had changed. Become deeper. Sinister. He was going to—
He wrenched Beau’s arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into a tree. Beau cried out. “Now, if I apply just a bit more pressure—” Wilder said.
Beau cried out again.
“—your elbow’s gonna break. It’s excruciating. Or you can apologize to the lady—who doesn’t belong to you and is far from old—and not only leave the area but the event. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Beau nodded profusely.
By now, a small crowd had gathered. Cosette’s cheeks heated.
“And don’t drive drunk.” He let up on Beau. Beau turned and swung.
Wilder grabbed his fist and put him on the ground, then planted his foot on Beau’s back like a weight. “Can one of you spectators come take this jerk home before he gets himself killed?”
Not that Wilder would kill him. But he was furious. A cold and quiet kind of fury. She’d seen it before. Much more frightening than someone blowing a gasket.
One of Beau’s old buddies stepped up. “I—I can.”
Wilder raked his hand through his hair and put his arm around Cosette. “Let’s go buy a red velvet cake and two forks.” He said it as if he hadn’t just been involved in an altercation.
“That’s my favorite cake,” she said and leaned into him as they blew past her gaping classmates, loathing herself for resting in his strength and comfort. She didn’t want to need him or have these feelings stirring inside her. Wilder gave her security, and if she lapped it up, she’d be a lost puppy. Nope. Not happening. Time to get a handle on her feelings ASAP.
“I know.” He led her to the parking lot as crickets chirped. Music continued to play in the distance, and her heart thumped to a beat she refused to register.
Wilder opened the car door for her, but blocked her from getting inside. “I don’t understand. If this guy scares you so bad, why did you bother to come? You’ve barely spoken to anyone. And did you really date that mule?”
Cosette hung her head, humiliation and shame flushing her face. If he thought Beau was bad, he’d really look down on her for Jeffrey.
Wilder tipped up her chin. “Hey, look at me... We all have exes from our teenage years we wish we didn’t. But you could have done so much better.”
Back then, she didn’t believe that. And now? Now she just wanted to be alone even if it was lonely.
He brushed his thumb across her jawline. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m fine.” Now. Thanks to Wilder.
“He won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of that.”
Cosette believed him. But what about the real threat out there? The cunning and manipulative man who lurked in the shadows and hid behind his PhD? Or was Beau the real threat? If he wasn’t the original danger, after the humiliation, he would be one now. The thought hung over her like a thick blanket of cold darkness and she shivered.
“Is there anything else I need to know, Cosette?”
He must be getting that superhero hunch. She swallowed the truth, choking on it. “No. No, I’m fine.”
For now.
* * *
“Do you want me to come with you?” Wilder asked.
Cosette gripped the door handle of the rental car and stared out at the sea of tombstones marking the lives of loved ones. “No.” She did this alone every year. She’d never feared coming, though. Until now. “I know some people would say that she’s not there—not really. And I know that. She’s in heaven with Jesus. But it comforts me to come. To talk to her as if she’s alive. To clean up the weeds and replace the flowers. I’ve—I’ve even brought a blanket before and spent a whole afternoon.”
“Would you like to do that now? I can come back for—”
“No!” She choked down the fear. Jeffrey might be out here, hidden in the woods, watching and waiting. Or Beau. With no car, no Wilder... She couldn’t risk being stranded. And that’s how she felt. Stranded. Alone. Hedged in. She forced a pleasant expression. “I mean...no, thanks.”
The lines in Wilder’s brow deepened and he searched the cemetery as if scanning for threats. “I’ll be here. Stay as long as you like. I have a book.”
“You’re reading a book?” She bit down on her lip and smirked. “I mean, I’m not implying...” She sighed. Wilder was well-educated, he just didn’t like much fiction. Most military suspense wasn’t believable, according to him. “I—”
“How about I pull you up out of that gigantic hole you just dug?” His grin lit up and warmed a few dark and empty places within her. “It’s by a former SEAL. Not rocket science.” He tugged a strand of her hair. “Go on. Go talk to your mama.”
“Thank you, Wilder. For everything. Even the cake, though I certainly don’t need it.” She was five-eight and wore size twelve. “Hippie chick” brought a whole new meaning when coupled with her. In today’s society, she’d be a plus-size model! Okay, enough self-hatred over weight. She had other things to hate herself for that were far worse.
“Cake looks good on you.” He held up his book and motioned with his chin for her to get going.
She exited the vehicle and weaved slowly through the cemetery. Memories of her and Mama cooking, baking, shopping, sunbathing, filled her mind. Cosette missed her so. If only she would have left for safety’s sake.
He loves me, Cosie.
You don’t know him. He doesn’t mean to do it.
He’s sorry. Really. Deep down he’s a good man.
He’s had a terrible