“Who did?”
“Daddy dearest.”
“How?”
Why does he need to know? “Not now, Gage.Not now.” I move fast, stomping down the steps and out the door on my way back to the bus stop. There’s a motel a few blocks away. I’ll stay there for a night or two until I can figure out my next step.
I hear his footsteps before he says, “Daisy. Wait.”
Stopping dead in my tracks, I rotate until I’m facing him. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
“To the bus stop.”
He steps closer and bends slightly. I feel his hand touch mine, and then the bags in my right hand are gone. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got my car. I’ll take you where you need to go.” His voice is so soft, gentle.
And that’s all it takes to put me over the edge. The tears start pouring out of my eyes, and I don’t even try to stop them.
“Daisy?” I hear the bags rustling, but my eyes are closed. Then I feel him—or his arms, rather. They’re wrapped around me in an embrace, and I honestly feel like it’s the first time in forever anyone has hugged me. Shit. It only makes me bawl harder.
“Honey,” he practically coos. I’m pressed against his hard chest, and all I want to do is snuggle against him for the rest of my life. “Shh, shh. It’s gonna be okay.”
I shake my head against him because I don’t think I can talk right now. It doesn’t feel like everything’s going to be okay. Not ever.
“Sweetheart.” He pulls away and I move with him, doing whatever I can to stay right where I am.
“Daisy.” I open my eyes and see we’re nose to nose. “Honey. It’s gonna be okay.”
Wiping at my eyes and nose, I sniffle and attempt to get my breathing under control. This time I nod.
“Let me take you. Where are you going?”
“Motel.”
“You’re going to a motel?”
I nod.
“Do you want to call your father?”
“No.” I cough out the word thanks to the goop in my throat from all the crying. Okay, it’s snot. Sorry. “I don’t want to speak to him.” Not now. Not tomorrow. Notever.
With one hand, Gage holds mine. With the other, he picks up the shopping bags. “Let’s go.”
I have no fight left in me, so I go.
In his car, I buckle up and watch him do the same. “You hungry?” he asks.
“Not really.” I still have a sub in one of my bags, though that doesn’t even sound appealing anymore.
“How ’bout Blaze Pizza?”
I find a smile somewhere in all of my melancholy. “I could eat Blaze Pizza.”
“Good, because I’m starving.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
