Red

Part 8

Bucky

By the time Tuesday rolls around, I have a call in to my friend in family law, and she's agreed to swing by the office sometime this week to speak to Mallery in a safe, non-threatening setting. I've told Mallery that whatever she decides, Steve, Nat, and I will back her up completely. I've reserved a smaller conference room for later; Mallery hasn't asked me to join her, and I'm not pushing the issue.

Just a few days ago, she said she would tell me what happened, what she experienced with John, but she hasn't been able to explain it; she hasn't been able to open up. I'm walking her through my daily office routine, and luckily, we don't have much on the docket for the rest of this week. Wanda has left explicit notes, and Mallery is quick.

When she pops in while I'm wrapping up a call with my marketing team, she smiles as she paces to the window to look out at the street below. I hang up, but she doesn't turn around to speak to me. "How's it going? Everything all right?" I've been trying to keep everything casual. She's got enough pressure with the lawyer coming later, so even if I can tell that she's a bundle of nerves, and so am I, I'm trying desperately to play it cool.

"Everyone is really kind here." Mallery's voice was always like a summer breeze when we were kids, but over the years, after all the things she's put it through, it's become a bit ragged around the edges. Like the faint sound of car tires rolling across gravel in the driveway. "I wanted to say something to you." She finally turns to look at me, and I see a woman with clear eyes and a small smile. Gone are the deep purple bags under her eyes, and the bruises are well past healing.

The small cuts that had dotted her face, from what I can only guess, have scabbed over, and she looks rested. Maybe more rested than I've seen her in the last few weeks. She's standing up straight and holding her head high. It was a sudden change between Sunday and today. I'm not sure what caused it, but I'm excited and anxious for the possibilities.

"Bucky? Are you listening?"

"I'm sorry." I shake my head and smile. "You were saying?"

"I'm really grateful to be here; this job, this opportunity ... it means a lot, especially coming from you after, well, everything." Her gaze is locked with mine, and I see a spark of something. Maybe it's determination or maybe it's the realization that just because some douche canoe treated her wrong doesn't mean I will too.

"We'll give Wanda the credit. I—"

"Say 'you're welcome', Bucky." She chuckles, and I sigh at the sound.

"You're welcome, Bucky." She rolls her eyes deftly and takes a seat on the sofa across from me.

"There is something I need to ask though; two things, actually." She clears her throat. "I have a working understanding of what Tash does for a living. I think I might need a bodyguard."

I eye her a moment before leaning forward and resting my elbows on my thighs. This is a conversation that I never anticipated having with Mallery. It's like a punch to the gut because I immediately feel as if I'm not doing enough. I'm obviously not; I let her go into the city to her previous job the other day ... alone, and he got to her there.

"I need someone who can keep an eye on me and deal with John if necessary. I want to move back into the city at some point; I can't stay in Jersey forever." I look up to see Mallery speaking animatedly, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Wait, wait." Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stand up and round my desk to step in front of her. "You want to move back into the city?"

She nods.

"And you want a bodyguard to protect you and deal with your maniac of an ex if necessary?" She nods again, and I sigh. "What about the protection order? Have you changed your mind? Also, what do you know about Nat's job?"