A fucking grocery bag.
I take the bag from her, and we leave the apartment. She locks the door, but then I notice that she moves back to the door three times to check the locks.
That’s different.
I lead her down the stairs and around to the front of the building where I’m parked.
“Do you want to turn off the lights in there?” I ask her.
“No, it’s okay. I’m too tired, Brooks.”
I’m going to punch everyone who knew about this but didn’t tell me. Even my brother.
“Come on then.” I open the door of the truck, and she climbs in. When she’s settled in the seat, I put the seat belt on her, then kiss her smooth cheek.
She stiffens but doesn’t pull away.
I’ve been such a dick to her that she can’t stand me touching her.
I should punch myself.
As I drive through town, I glance over and see that she’s resting her head on the window. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are in fists in her lap. As I get closer to the house, her hands soften, and she relaxes.
She’s fallen asleep on the two-minute drive from her place to mine.
My girl is wrecked.And I haven’t been there to help her.
And goddammit, that stops now because no matter what happened between us in the past, she’s here now, and I can’t stay away.
I can’t continue to live without her.
I pull into my driveway and cut the engine by the back door, in front of the garage. She doesn’t stir.
“Hey, Jules, we’re here. Baby, I’m going to come around and get you, okay?”
She wrinkles her brow but doesn’t fully wake up, and it breaks my heart.
Christ, she’s destroying me here.
Pushing out of the truck, I circle the hood and gently open her door, catching her when she would lean out. I unfasten her seat belt, then lift her into my arms and kiss the top of her head as I close the truck door with my foot and carry her to the back door, which I never lock.
I get her inside and decide that putting her in my bed, where I want her, would only piss her off when she wakes up, so I take her to the only guest room I have. Birdie has stayed in here a few times, but otherwise, this room is mostly unused.
Thankfully, the bedding is clean, so I lay her on top of the blankets. Jules snuggles right down into the pillow, hugging it to her. I’ve never wanted to be a pillow so bad in my life.
Striding away from her, I go out to the truck to get her things and bring them inside. I lock the back door—I now have something to lose in here—and set her things on the dresser in the room she’s in.
She’s dressed in red sweat shorts and a black tank top, and I assume those are her pajamas, so she’ll be comfortable.
Which is good because if I had to strip her down and put her in one of my shirts, I might not survive it. I was inside her over a week ago, and I’ve thought of nothing else since. I handled it so fucking poorly that all I did was piss her off and push her away.
Which, a few months ago, I would have said is exactly what I wanted.
But now that I’ve had my hands on her, there’s no way I can let her go. I don’t simply want her.
Ineedher.
And I’ll prove to her that I’m not a complete asshole. There’s a lot to learn when it comes to my wildfire. She wasn’t wrong the other day when she said we’re strangers.
