Captive

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Be gentle with him," Jim said quietly when he saw that Bret was waiting for her when her shift ended. Juliet smiled at him, shaking her head.

"I'll do my best. Good night Jim."

"Night darling," he said, patting her arm and watching as Bret pulled on his baseball cap and then followed her out into the night, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, as if to prevent himself from reaching across to touch her. Juliet wrapped her arms around herself and glanced across as Bret matched her pace, walking beside her. They were quiet for a moment as they walked, there was a chill in the night air and Juliet felt a small shiver run through her. The streetlights meant it wasn't too dark though as they walked and she led him to the bus stop where she came to a halt. The last bus left in just five minutes time so they were here in good time for it. Jim always made sure she got out in time to catch it and if things were running a little late he would send her on her way regardless to ensure she didn't miss it. And she always had to message him when she was home. When he told her this she had rolled her eyes at him but the look he gave her soon put a stop to the eye rolling. They hadn't spoken a word yet and as the bus came into view she rooted in her bag for her pass.

"You'll need to ask for the Sycamore Street stop," she said quietly.

"We could have got a taxi," he grumbled and she smiled up at him.

"It won't hurt you to get on a bus, Mr Hart." Hearing what she called him he went to reprimand her but she climbed on board the bus flashing her pass at the driver who smiled at her and then told Bret his fare. By the time he'd rifled through his pockets to bring out the right money Juliet was sat down on a seat near the front watching him and in an unguarded moment he saw her lips curved upwards in a smile and her eyes shining brightly. He realised that despite calling him Mr Hart his presence actually made her happy. He moved to sit beside her on the seat and wasn't too disappointed when he realised his leg was pushing up against hers but she didn't attempt to move away. They both enjoyed the physical contact that the bus necessitated and the only moment when Bret felt a little uncomfortable was when the bus pulled up to allow a trio of young men on board, all of whom were clearly inebriated. They were loud and not altogether appropriate he realised as he watched them take their seats and the uncomfortable thought that she would usually be on her own dealing with this, probably more vulnerable than she realised occurred to him. He glanced down at her and saw that her face had paled a little. He knew she would find this intimidating and without thinking about it he placed an arm around her shoulders, creating a barrier between her and the young men. She leaned into his touch and suddenly her head was resting against his shoulder. Bret felt a sigh escape his lips and his arm tightened around her a little. The bus journey was over all too quickly and he felt her stir against him, going to stand up. She reached round him to press the bell, to alert the driver that this was their stop. Bret stood up and let her go in front of him, still protective because of the raucous men behind them but they took no notice of either him or Juliet, too caught up in their own drunken discussion about hockey to notice anyone else.

His ears seemed to ring in the silence which followed as he stepped off the bus behind her. Juliet tucked her hands into her pockets after pushing a stray curl behind her ear and they set off for her house which was just round the corner from the bus stop. They still didn't speak, just walked side by side, though he noticed she wasn't keeping quite the same distance between them as she had when they came out from the bar. He could still feel the weight of her head on his arm, wished he could reach out and take her hand, but he didn't. They needed to talk, try to figure things out first. His fingers caught round something in his pocket and his mouth set in a grim lime. The fine links of the chain ran between his fingers and then he found the sharp ends of the pendant. If he achieved nothing else tonight he hoped he would at least persuade her to put the necklace back on. He'd been carrying it in his pocket since he found it in the drawer in her bedroom a few days earlier when he'd gone in to clear out the clothing that was left there. The clothing remained where it was in the end as he couldn't bear to part with it, feeling that if he did he was truly saying goodbye to her which he wasn't ready to do. But the necklace had found it's way into his pocket where he would find it sometimes and run it through his fingers, picturing it at her throat.