“He’s never been caught. I filed a restraining order against him after the last time he… but he took off and they weren’t ever able to arrest him or give him the order. I’m sure they’ll add tonight’s incident to the order, but they still have to find him to serve him.” She shrugged, then winced at the movement. God, he wanted to crush her to him and hold her, never let go. Never let this animal close to her again. But he didn’t, simply stood before her, hands on her shoulders. She lowered her head then, dropping her eyes from his. “I found a note from him earlier tonight, after I got back from the gym. It was out on the porch. I knew he was already upset with me; I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.”
Travis’s hands tightened on her shoulders slightly, though he tempered his grip enough to not be rough or bruising. “If you hadn’t gone out, he would have found you here, Roxy. And Iwouldn’t have been here.” Her eyes misted. “What makes you think he was already upset?”
She sucked in a deep breath and then let it out. “He saw us, Travis. I don’t know if he was at the restaurant, or if it was just when you dropped me back off at my car. Neal has always been… insanely jealous and incredibly volatile when that jealousy comes out…” she breathed almost silently, and then turned to open a drawer in the island. She pulled out scraps of fabric and another neon orange post it note, setting them on the counter next to the roses. He recognized the color, then realized he was staring at the shredded remains of the teal leggings, sports bra, and jacket she’d worn to dinner with him last week. He let his eyes scan the post it, his rage returning full force. “I know he’s been watching me. I knew he would be enraged if I went out and I tried to cancel on Natalie, after I found it, but she showed up and dragged me out anyway. And then I convinced myself that it was fine, that I was out in public and he wouldn’t do anything to me in a bar. I was wrong. He knew I was there. Chased me outside. He was so mad because I danced with some guy.”
“The puppy.”
Roxy made another scoffing laugh, but then she clutched her head in between her hands. “That’s what I had named him in my head, too. He reminded me of a puppy dog.”
“Where’s the Tylenol?” he asked, stepping around her.
“In the bathroom cabinet.” She pointed down the darkened hallway, and he set off in that direction, flipping the light on as he went. Travis did a quick walk-through of each of the bedrooms along the hallway, checking the closets and under the beds, just to be sure this prick was truly gone.
He was back a minute later with the bottle of Tylenol in his hand. He opened it, shaking out two of the extra strength capsules and held them out to her. She cupped her hand and he set them in her palm, before turning to the sink and fillinga glass with tap water. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her swallow them down, his gaze tracking over the myriad bruises and scrapes that were coloring her face. Rage surged through him again.
“Thank you.”
“I checked the other rooms while I was back there, the house is clear.” His voice was gruffer than intended, but the anger simmering just below the surface as he watched her was taking all of his considerable willpower to maintain. She swallowed hard, but nodded. Fear clouded her eyes briefly, and he fucking hated it. He would gladly kill this sonofabitch for putting that fear in her, for putting his hands on her. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
“You don’t have to stay, Travis,” she said quietly, though she didn’t fight him when he stepped forward, placing his hand at her lower back and leading her down the hall. By checking the other rooms, he knew which one was hers and directed her toward it.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight, Red. I think you have a concussion; I’m not comfortable leaving you here by yourself. And if he decides to come back, I’ll be waiting. I’m staying.”
She sank down onto the foot of the bed and held her head in her hands gingerly, cautious of the right side of her face. “The guest bed is comfortable, and has clean sheets on it.”
Travis nodded. “Pajamas?”
“I’ll get them.”
“You just sit there. Where are they?”
She lowered her hands, glaring at him with all the ferocity of a bunny rabbit, but he didn’t let the smile show on his face. “I don’t want you rifling through my drawers, Travis. That’s inappropriate.”
“Do you have inappropriate things in your drawers, Red?” he teased gently.
“Well I don’t want your giant hands pawing through my panty drawer. What if I have vibrators in there?”
His lips twitched with the need to smile. “Do you have vibrators hiding in your unmentionables, Roxy?”
“You’ll never know,” she mumbled, standing. She stepped toward the dresser and opened several drawers in succession, pulling out a set of pajamas, and then a set of clean underwear, which he glanced away from. She was still shaky on her feet.
“Do you want to change, brush your teeth, anything before you get into bed?” he asked.
“I probably should,” she said quietly, closing her eyes where she stood. She was still so pale, and those bruises that were rapidly forming seemed garish against her pale skin.
“Come on,” he murmured, placing his hand at her back again. She let him lead her back toward the bathroom, where he flipped the light on.
“I really want to wash my face, but it hurts.”
He forced down another surge of rage. As gently as he could manage, he murmured, “You change, brush your teeth, and then open the door when you’re done.”
She nodded, and he exited, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked down the hallway to the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of water. He had just finished it when he heard the door open and saw the light spilling into the hallway. Travis returned, stepping into the small bathroom with her. She had changed out of the tattered and dirty jeans and bandana top, both laying on the floor in the corner, and into a set of waffle weaved lounge shorts and an oversized Reba McIntire band tee. Her breasts were unrestrained beneath the material of the shirt, and the hem had been cut shorter, so that it hit just below her bellybutton. Her hair had been released from its topknot, though the curls were a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her knees were scraped up and raw, the gravel having torn throughthe knees of her jeans when that piece of shit had dragged her through the gravel of the parking lot. Fury at the bastard for hurting her tore through him all over again.
Turning on the tap in the sink to hot, he let it warm and pulled a washcloth off the little shelf over the commode. Wetting it thoroughly, he wrung out the excess water, and then turned the water off. Tipping her chin up with his fingers beneath her jaw, he stared at her for a long moment, his eyes spearing into her own. He swallowed hard, then lifted the washcloth to her face. She sucked in her breath sharply at the heat of the washcloth. He made sure his touch was gentle, carefully washing away the make-up that was tear streaked down her face, until her skin was clear and the only thing marring it was the bruises. He wanted to press his lips to every mark, every discoloration, to erase the memory of the last thing that had touched her there. To replace it with his own touch. But he didn’t.
They didn’t speak. Fuck, Travis was barely breathing. He set the washcloth on the counter before placing his hands on her shoulders, letting his palms slide down the outsides of her arms. “Come on. To bed, baby girl.”
Roxy’s eyes bounced between his, but she nodded, lowering her gaze as he led her back into the bedroom. She climbed into the bed and he could see the cautious way she moved. She was in more pain than she had let on earlier. Lowering herself to the pillows, she lay on her side, her right arm tucked under the pillow beneath her head. He watched her wince, and wished he had the guts to touch her, to help her as she rolled to her other side, so that she was laying on the unmarred side of her face. Her back to him now, he tucked the comforter around her and leaned down to kiss her temple gently, and her eyes fluttered closed at the contact. He watched as a tear escaped her eye, rolling down her battered cheek and into her hairline.
