Vulnerable ✔

1

Arrow Archer Remington Slate!

***

MIX OF EMOTIONS played across my girls' face; exhaustion, satisfaction, motivated, and joy after an hour an half of the exercise. It was a huge fulfillment on my part to see them participating in this program. It had been two years since I joined my best buddy creating this self-defense training, and so far, I loved my job.

My fucking ass comrade chose to train male and let me handle the women. I didn't have a problem though—if I was trained to protect my country, how could I not handle women?

"Okay, we're done with the hammer strike. Tomorrow, I will show you on how to kick a groin." I faked my grimace, and sixteen women laughed. Some of them were battered, some just wanted to protect themselves, and others were victims of physical attack by thugs.

"Thanks, Arrow!" they chorused and scattered to dismiss except for a young woman who seemed tense since I started the training earlier.

"Caitriona?"

She startled and met my gaze. "Y-yes?" She was the newest member of the group—just started last week, and based on my assessment she didn't have to tell me what she had been through, and it fucking hurt that as young as nineteen she had to go through that experience.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

"You know if you need someone to talk to, I am here not only as a trainer but as a friend."

She nodded. "I'm really good."

"Okay then. Take care." I walked out from the studio, feeling queasy. I felt that I failed her. I needed to gain everyone's trust; that was one of my goals. I wanted to help them, but there was always someone who couldn't easily open up something painful to someone like me.

I felt like a shrink for fucking sake which was not part of my job. There was just a part of me that if I could get to know them, it would be easy for me to teach them to protect themselves.

From the moment my mother and my sister died in that collision, I had only one purpose, it was to protect. At ten my grandmother took care of me, then a year after she died—all the women in my life just died and left me, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I hit the shower and let the water into almost freezing cold. Bullets of water hit me that made my whole body shiver, forgetting the memory of how I left the job that I loved. It works. It made me numb.

After I did my shower, I slipped into my old ripped jeans and black tees. I scrubbed my cheek to find two missed calls from Imogen. We grew up together as we passed from foster to foster homes. She didn't call me often, but we never missed at least a message or a meetup in a month. Now, she worried me.

I dialed her number and she picked up as if she was waiting for my call.

"Damn time!"

"'sup, bigfoot?" I could feel she was rolling her eyes. She hated that name, but I thought it fit her. She has ten size shoes and with five feet and eleven inches tall—a taller for a woman of my liking.

"I saw her, Arrow! But I think she didn't recognize me anymore."

"Who?"

"I didn't even get a chance to introduce myself because I was about to leave and I was just standing there like an idiot, and she was early for her appointment."

"Stop, emoji. Who's her?"

"The girl, remember when you told me during our high school?"

My brows furrowed. My thoughts scattered. How in the hell did she end up here? Or the right question was what the hell was she doing in the hospital?

When I first saw her in high school, it was odd that I felt something for her. I couldn't get near her without thinking of someone I cared about and feeling something at the same time was mortifying.

I was glad and in pain at the same time when her family suddenly left. I didn't even get a chance to talk to her because every time we bumped into one another, I ran away like my ass was on fire. Her exit had caused something terrible to me. I thought of her a lot until I ended up jacking off while thinking about her. I felt fucking guilty, distraught, and ashamed of myself.

"Arrow Archer Remington Slate!" Imogen's angry voice jabbed me back from my thoughts. "Are you listening? Damn you!"

"Sorry, I was a little distracted."

"Obviously," she snapped.

"How did you know it was her? It's been years, emoji."

"She's Brooklyn Paisley, isn't she?" Her name did a flutter down my belly and my heart is in my fucking throat.

Shit!

"Is she okay?"

"No. And I can't discuss it with you. I can't break the PBR."

I groaned. "Then why are you telling me? It's not that I can help her."

"I just feel bad for her, Arrow. She's not the—"

"Then don't!" I swallowed. Something deep inside me that I wanted to figure out what happened to her, and the only person I considered family didn't want to tell me.

"She's blind, okay?"

My eyes widened. "What the—? How the—?"

My jaw clenched. I shut my eyes closed, and suddenly her face appeared in my mind. Her big hazel eyes. Those were the only things that made Brooklyn different from her who had a brown one just like mine.

Holy fucking shit!

***

I BOLTED up in bed, heaving. The thin sheet was sticking into my sweaty skin.

"Motherfucking world!" I threw my legs out of bed as the ringing of doorbell never went off. It was probably Imogen, and I will fucking let her clean my apartment for disturbing my sleep. At least it was not the same fucking nightmare I had—the face of my ex in that fucking explosion or the car crash of Mom and my sister.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I marched to my door. "Just fucking wait!"

I unlocked the door open and turned back to the kitchen. "Shut the door behind you."

Click Clack

That sound made me stop into a halt. When I turned around, my world just suspended. I was stunned to the point that I forgot how to breathe.

My eyes widened at the sight of the woman standing right in front of me.