JOHN’S POV

Abigail was a mess, and the only thing that I could do was hold her. I’d hold her until the day I took my last breath if it kept her feeling protected and safe from the guy at the market.

She sniffed and gripped onto my shirt, leaving wet stains behind in her tears’ wake. Spots where my shirt had turned from a cloudy grey to a deep charcoal. She was upset, clearly, and it had to do with the a**hole at the shop. I knew it did. There was no denying it could be ...