Drew doesn’t need to know that. I hide my grin and give him a noncommittal shrug.

He grabs a banana and a jar of peanut butter before heading to the living room with a dismissive, “Whatever, man. Better keep her away from Monte.”

I growl. Monte better keep away from her.

Elizabeth dries off her hands and faces me now that Drew’s gone. Tucking a nonexistent hair behind her ear, she gestures toward my bedroom and says, “I should get going.”

“Why?” I shove off the counter and step in front of her, blocking her retreat.

“Your roommates. I don’t think they want me here.”

“Who cares what they want?”

She tugs at the hem of her shirt and doesn’t look at me. “Don’t you care what they think?”

“No.” My answer is harsh. I’m annoyed that her demeanor has changed. Is she ashamed to be seen getting domestic with me? I cross my arms and glare at her. “Do you?”

She bites her lip and glances off toward the living room. Toward Drew. “I’m…in the way. I’m not… I don’t want to make things complicated.”

“They’re not.”

She mutters, “Not for you. You fit in everywhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” She sighs, brushing past me and beelining it for my bedroom.

I stalk into the living room and smack Drew in the back of the head with a, “Thanks for that, asshole.”

“Does this mean there isn’t any breakfast?” Drew calls back at me as I make my way to my room to figure out what the hell’s wrong with Elizabeth.

“Fuck off,” I call back before the sound of Elizabeth’s horrified voice makes my blood run cold.

From the bedroom I hear her scream, “No. Oh God, no! Please.”

My heart is racing and my only thought is to get to her. I’m at a near-dead sprint by the time I make it to my bedroom. I hurdle the bed like it’s the last blocker between me and the game-saving tackle.

She’s sitting on the far side of the bed, glaring at her phone and shaking her head. She slumps her shoulders and drops her head into her hands. Cowering in defeat, her small body trembles as she weeps. Kneeling at her side, I examine her for some injury. She’s broken, but not hurt. The sight twists a knife in my gut. I wrap her in my arms and her cries get louder, her tiny frame shuddering as I press it against mine.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I tell her in the softest voice my frayed nerves can produce. She sniffles and pulls away, wiping at the tears on her face with the back of her hand. She would hate me for saying it, but right now she looks like a little girl.

Small, vulnerable and broken.