The next morning, I have to put on my face for a completely different reason.

I passed out not long after Reeve left. I think I'd exhausted myself, what with all the throwing of my emotional baggage onto somebody who's practically a stranger. When I woke up, eyes so puffy they were almost swollen shut, throat dry and scratchy, every muscle in my body aching in protest, I didn't really remember the extent of what I'd done.

Then I wet my lips with my tongue and—as crazy as it sounds—I swear I could still taste him there. It all came rushing back, and I've never felt more shame with such sudden, powerful force.

It would've been bad enough if I'd just kissed him as a way to feel something other than the pain I was going through at that moment. But then I'd begged him—begged him—to not only let me do it again, but to be an active participant.

Look, I've begged plenty of men in my day. I've never tried to hide the fact that I'm a needy, demanding bottom. But this was something else. I was begging him for something he shouldn't have had to give me. I was begging him for an emotional anchor—for some sense of self that, for just a few moments, didn't include thoughts of Blake or my mom or anyone else.

I was pleading with him to make me forget, and it wasn't fair to him.

So I hide away the puffiness just like I hid the bags. I skip the eyeliner because I don't want to draw attention to how red my eyes are. My hair gets a gel treatment, I dress like somebody who actually has his life together, and I head to the diner to get things back to the way they should be.

Of course, I still have that fear that Blake's just going to suddenly show up, but I push it aside and focus on a goal I know is going to kick my ass. A goal I don't bother to tell anyone else about until I get to the diner.

"We're gonna open up for limited service today. Takeout only, partial menu. Give me an hour to see what we have and I'll figure out what that menu is," I tell my gathered employees.

There's some concerned blow-back, but I think everyone's just glad to have something to do aside from fixing up the place. So I scour the fridge and the pantry, come up with a menu of stuff that'll take Tony no longer than ten to fifteen minutes to cook, and I put a call into the local radio station to let people know we're serving food today.

It only takes about an hour until Dana’s swamped with takeout orders. One day without Gracie's and Glen Springs residents apparently lose their minds. It's nice, though. To know that even if something happens, we'll always have customers chomping at the bit when we open our doors again.

I get into a comfortable routine, going between prep work and cleanup. Then the sun starts to climb higher in the sky and I catch sight of the time. It's almost Reeve O'clock.

I can't face him. Not after what happened last night. It's cowardly as hell, but as the minutes tick by with no sign of him, I actually feel a massive sense of relief. After what I pulled, I've probably lost a customer. Maybe somebody who could've become a friend. But at least I'll only have to deal with seeing him around town. By the time I run into him at the grocery store or the post office, maybe he'll have forgotten about that night I tried to beg him to help me forget.

Around midday, though, my luck takes a sharp turn. We're swamped with lunch orders and I'm helping Tony in the back when Dana comes to get me.

"That hot security guard's here. Says he needs to talk to you."

On one hand, it's good to know Reeve really is that predictable. On the other hand, I wish I had some kind of body double right now.

"Bit busy," I say, forcing my voice to sound normal.

"I'm caught up here," Tony says, oh so helpfully. "Go talk to your bae."

I smirk at him. "Do you even know what that word means?"

"'Best ass ever?'"

I laugh at that, shaking my head. Thank God for Tony and Dana and everybody else who works here. There's no way I'd be able to keep my sanity without them around. Even in a situation that’s this crazy and chaotic, it's like he's gone out of his way to put me at ease.

Of course, that all changes when I walk up to the front and see Reeve. He looks the same as he always does. Dressed in that security guard uniform, sporting a generous amount of stubble, wearing the same expression I'd expect to find on a grumpy bear.

Except now I know what that beard feels like when it's rubbing against my face. And I know there's definitely more to him than grumpiness; I experienced that firsthand last night.

But part of putting on a face is playing a role, no matter how forced. "You're late."

Reeve doesn't have any patience for this game, apparently. "You got a minute?"

I glance back at the kitchen. Tony gives me a very noticeable, very obnoxious thumbs up. "For you, I've got three."

No reason to act like anything's changed. If Reeve's going to be the same person he normally is, then so am I. Maybe it'll help me get through what I'm pretty sure is going to be the world's most awkward conversation.

He leads me outside, like I expected. But he doesn't say anything. And he doesn't stop on the sidewalk. He just keeps walking. Out onto the blacktop, then across the patchy grass where his car is parked.

"As tempted as I am to run away with you—"

He reaches into the driver's side and pops the trunk. Curiosity gets the best of me, and as I glance inside I see two large bags filled with boxes. There's no quip in the world to suit this situation. I have no idea what's going on, and Reeve sure doesn't go out of his way to explain.

"Wasn't sure how this place was wired."

He comes around to the back and lifts the bags out of the trunk, opening one up. I try to peer inside, but the boxes look like they came fresh from some factory or a catalog or something. They're just plain brown cardboard with serial numbers on the side.

"What is all of this?" I finally ask.

He opens a box, and still all I can see are wires. "Cameras. Alarms. Movement detectors. Some other things, too, but those are the big ones."

I stare at him, completely lost, then look back at the bundle he's finally gotten out of the box. Sure enough, it's a camera secured in bubble wrap.

"I don't…"

"Half of them are for here. Figured I'd set them up while there were customers coming in and out so you could see how they operate."

My mouth works, but no words come out.

"The other half are for your place. I can come by later and install everything. Should be in and out in a couple of hours."

I stare at him again, completely at a loss, and say the only thing that seems appropriate in this situation. "This is insane."

"You need cameras. Everything else is just extra precaution." A line furrows into his brow. "I know it seems like a lot, but it'll pay off."

"You are insane," I say, revising my previous position. "Did you buy all of this? Please tell me you didn't buy all of this."

"I told you. I know people."

That… doesn't make me feel any better. Now I have images in my head of Reeve "shopping" out of the back of a truck. No wonder none of this stuff is in recognizable packaging.

And it's that thought—crazy as it is—that finally gets me to a place of logic. "Look, I'm sure you mean well, but I can't accept all of this."

"It's not a gift," he says with a shrug. "It's an investment."

My eyes narrow. "An investment in my safety."

He doesn't say anything, and I suddenly remember his words to me last night. He’s never going to control your life again. It's like a swift kick to the gut as I realize how I must look to him. Poor, defenseless Eric who broke down and acted like a crazy person.

"I'm not doing this, Reeve. Like I said, I appreciate it, but I don't need your pity or your protection."

"I don't pity you," he says, sounding offended that I'd even say something like that. "You re-opened your diner a day after it was trashed. What the hell would I pity about that?"

Okay, that… was not what I expected him to say. And it's stupid, but his praise lifts my spirits; makes the fake-ass confidence I've been displaying just a little more real.

"I know what it's like to not feel in control of a situation," he says, holding my gaze with those intense brown eyes. "I just wanna help you get that control back."

Help me get it back. Not protect me. Not tell me maybe I shouldn't be working the kitchen today, or maybe I should follow up with the police to see if they've found any leads.

My mom means well—I know she does. But there's a world of difference between her desire to protect me and what Reeve's offering me right now.

Is my pride really worth this peace of mind? Cameras, alarms… all of it could make it possible for me to live my life again, without fearing Blake's every move. I could actually be proactive for once, and not feel like I'm just waiting to see how he's going to ruin my life next.

The only thing I have to do is accept help from a man who knows exactly how weak I can be.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and look at the other huge bag in his trunk. This really is insane, and at some point we're going to have to talk about where he got all this stuff from.

But for now…

"Okay. You can set it up under one condition."

Reeve's gaze is wary. "Okay…"

"You let me cook for you. A real meal, not just an omelet."

"An omelet's a real meal."

I hold firm, staring him down. After a few moments, the corner of Reeve's lips quirk upward. "Deal."