“Do you want to shower?” I asked as I shut the door to my apartment and locked it. When the sound of it clicking into place echoed in the room, her shoulders visibly relaxed a fraction, which I was grateful for. “Or do you want to eat first?”
She glanced at the food, and after chewing on her abused lip for a moment, she shrugged. “I’ll eat,” she said quietly, finally speaking for the first time since leaving her house. And fuck, it was a small win, but I’d goddamn take it. So long as I got to hear her sweet voice again.
“Sit on the bed,” I told her. Once she was sitting, I crouched in front of her to take off her shoes. When she turned so her back rested against the headboard, I set the tray in her lap, then dropped a kiss to the top of her head. I had no idea what’d prompted me to do it, but the low sigh she expelled told me it was the right thing to do. That she’d needed that little bit of comfort.
“Eat,” I gently told her. “I’ll find something on TV.”
After flipping through some channels, I settled on a game show network. It was a stupid show where people won fridges or cars or some other kind of appliance and whatnot, but it didn’t require much thinking, and I knew there’d be nothing triggering.
After settling into my desk chair, I kept a discreet eye on her, watching as she ate. When she was done and had even drunk the tea, she set the tray aside, then laid down and curled up under my blankets. Within no time, her eyelids were fluttering shut, and she fell asleep to the sound of the wheel on the TV spinning as someone waited on it to land on some high number.
And while she slept, I didn’t move. I stayed seated and on guard. Her personal soldier.
I might have left the United States’s battlefield, but I was now serving inherwarzone.
6
Nicole
When I woke up, I was alone, the sun was bleeding around the curtains over the window, and the alarm clock on the nightstand read out 3:42 in the afternoon. Grimacing, I pushed myself into a sitting position and yawned, reaching up to rub my tired, swollen, gritty eyes. Tugging the blanket up more around my shoulders, I took in the minimalist room, which contained the bare necessities a man might need—wooden bed stained dark brown, beat-up nightstand that’d clearly seen better days, a tall plain dresser, a desk, and a desk chair. Grit clearly wasn’t a man who needed much, if his room was anything to go by.
My chest tightened when his name dragged those horrid memories back to the forefront of my brain—being forced onto my knees, that man prying my jaw open and shoving his cock down my throat?—
I rushed off the bed and ran for the bathroom, dropping to my bruised, aching knees just in time to empty my stomach. Hottears spilled down my cheeks, and I sobbed, clutching the—thankfully clean—toilet bowl as my stomach heaved once more.
“Fuck,” I heard Grit growl and then he was behind me, his hands pulling my hair out of the way. Once it was all gathered into one fist, he rubbed my back and pressed a kiss to my shoulder that helped ease some of my panic and nausea. “Get it out, sunshine. It’s okay.”
Sniffling, I leaned back some and reached up, flushing the toilet. Wordlessly, Grit helped me up from the floor, and I hissed at the pain in my knees, almost afraid to roll up my pants leg and look at them. Grit handed me a small cup of mouthwash, and I gratefully took it, using it to rinse my mouth of the horrible acidic taste of my vomit, then rinsed it out once more with some water.
“Lindsey just brought you some food, but if you can’t eat?—”
I shook my head. “I need to eat,” I rasped, my throat sore. “I just… I remembered,” I said quietly, leaving it at that. “Had a bit of a panic attack, I think.”
He nodded in understanding as he wrapped his thick arm around my waist and led me into the bedroom. “Happens to the best of us.”
Before I could ask him what he meant by that, I blinked in surprise at the pretty blonde woman standing near the door, her hands folded in front of her belly, which was a little round, like she was early on in a pregnancy. She smiled warmly at me. “I brought you some more soup, some broth, a soda, and some water,” she said. She held her hand out to me, only taking one step closer. “I’m Lindsey, Blink’s old lady.”
I slowly took her hand, shaking it. Her smile widened, and I relaxed a bit. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be anything like her asshole old man, Blink. I was grateful to the man for taking me in and coming to my rescue, along with cleaning up my house after Grit killed both of those men, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a bit of a dick.
“Anyway, I won’t stay long. I know you probably want some space and a little seclusion right now. But if you need anything, please come find me. I want you to feel at home here.”
And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. When I looked at the nightstand, sure enough, a tray was sitting there with everything she’d listed, along with a pack of crackers. My chest squeezed. I’d been on my own for years since my parents had passed away, and being welcomed into their family so seamlessly left me aching.
“She seems nice,” I rasped.
Grit hummed. “She’s honestly the sweetest woman I’ve ever met,” he admitted. “Don’t know why the fuck she loves Blink, but they work.”
I arched a brow at him. “The sweetest?” I deadpanned as I took a seat on the bed.
Grit snorted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sunshine. You’re too spicy to be that sweet.” He gripped my chin and tilted my head back so our eyes were forced to meet. His were dark, almost black, and sinking into their depths left me feeling soothed and calm. Like nothing could touch me. I needed that so badly after what I’d been through.
“You okay?” he asked, forcing his tone to gentle.
I shrugged. “No. Not right now,” I admitted. “I just need some time, I think. And maybe a therapist.”
He nodded. “As soon as it’s safe, we’ll find you a therapist,” he promised. Shaking his head, he heaved a sigh filled with apologies and regret. “I’m so fucking sorry our shit touched you, sunshine.”
I shook my head and circled my fingers around his thick wrist. “Nothing for you to be sorry for. Whether you have issues with that club or not doesn’t excuse what they did to me.” I swallowed thickly. “Theymade those choices, Grit,” I croaked, my voice a bit strangled. “It doesn’t fall on you or anyone else in this club, okay?” I drew in a deep breath. “Just… can you make me a promise?”
