I laughed, not able to help it – holding a hand to my mouth as she startled, looking around at me in a way that suggested she was less than impressed – and in a way that, for all the differences between us, seemed just like something I would do.
CHAPTER7
JESSE
I knew Hestia likely needed some space, just to process everything that had happened at the sale. So that was my excuse for avoiding her, not wanting to add to her mental burden or make her feel like she owed me in any way. But the truth was . . . I couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t speak to her without wanting to touch her, kiss her, hold her again. It had been days since the sale, but even now, as I knelt by the side of the part-completed deck of Lottie’s cabin, I could still feel the impression of her body against me in the back of Bailey’s truck. The smell of her hair, soft and sweet, like the late summer wildflowers that blanketed the meadow beyond the lake ahead. The way she’d gripped my hands, as though I was the only thing tethering her to this earth.
For about the tenth time in half an hour, I looked around the side of the cabin and towards the barn where she was sitting on a low stool, her back against the open barn door. Legs out and ankles crossed, she was sketching intently, barely aware of anything else. Occasionally her hand trailed across her chest, glossy black nails tracing invisible lines around the Sleepy Hollow figure.
I knew it was irrational, but rage began to build yet again at the memory of her pain, the tremor in her voice when she told me the meaning of that particular tattoo. Her silence when I asked who had made her feel that way.
Was that same person the reason why she felt compelled to rescue that horse? That meant she was disbelieving when I asked her to meet my family? That’d caused her to have anxiety attacks and deal with them alone?
The urge to find whoever had hurt her, even so much aslookedat her the wrong way, and beat the living ever-loving shit out of them was overpowering.
I swore under my breath, almost accidentally firing the nail gun into my damn boot.
‘I’m taking a break,’ I grunted at Cole, putting it down before I actually did some damage. ‘Want a drink? I’m going up to the house.’ A sudden idea hit as he nodded, his brow furrowed as he registered my expression. ‘Is Lottie up there?’ I added, waiting for his nod before turning.
‘You okay? Finish up if you want, it’s been a long day,’ Cole called out, but I shook my head and carried on up the path, taking the shortcut over the grass ridge to reach the main drive, avoiding the temptation of looking down towards the barn. Work was the only thing keeping me sane right now. If I had nothing to do, then . . . I screwed my eyes shut for a moment against the memory of how her hands felt in mine, the look of open affection and trust in her eyes when we’d last spoken.
‘Hey! Just the guy,’ Lottie said as I reached the kitchen, taking off my hat with a sigh. ‘What do you think . . .’ She trailed off as I strode over to the fridge, pulling out a can of soda.
I turned to her, concern in her eyes as she stared.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Are you okay? Is Cole . . .?’
I nodded, opening the can and taking a gulp of the cold, sugary sweetness, hoping it’d take the edge off the oppressive feeling.
‘We’re fine, it’s just –’ I bit my lip, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea, before my anger reminded me it was. ‘I have a question about Hestia. One that I don’t want to upset her by asking.’
Lottie’s eyes widened for a moment as she perched on the edge of the kitchen table, hands on the edge.
‘Okaaay,’ she replied, clearly curious but also wary.
The real question lay thick on my tongue, the one about why Hestia felt so alone, why she so clearly pushed people away. With one exception, seemingly. The one staring at me like a startled deer.
‘When we came back from the sale,’ I began instead, trying to keep my voice level, trying to guard myself from the swell of emotion in the pit of my stomach, ‘she told me the story behind her Sleepy Hollow tattoo. Right after we had to pull over when she had some kinda anxiety attack.’ Lottie’s face crumpled, turning to look at the floor as her hands gripped the table. ‘I asked her who had made her feel afraid . . . but she wouldn’t answer me. Couldn’t, I don’t think. But I – I want to know, even though . . .’ I paused, hating how the next part of my thought process made me feel. ‘Even though maybe I can’t do anything about it. I just want to understand, make sure I never do anything that might trigger her in that way again.’
Lottie nodded slowly, meeting my eyes.
‘You really like her, don’t you?’ she asked, voice as gentle as her eyes as she studied me.
I held them, nodded just once as my jaw clenched.
‘I’m not sure what she’d want me to share, but I know you, and I know . . . she trusts you.’ She sighed, moving her hair from her face, letting it fall over her left shoulder as she frowned. ‘It was her stepfather that made her feel like that,’ she added, almost wincing as she stared into the space between us. ‘You might’ve heard what an almighty asshole my dad can be from Cole, but Hestia’s stepfather . . . he’s a whole other level of nasty prick.’
My grip tightened on the can, and I knocked the rest of it back before I could crush it, placing it down on the counter.
‘Did he hurt her?’ I growled, dreading the answer, unsure how I’d be able to contain myself if . . .
‘No, not physically,’ she confirmed, watching me carefully. ‘It was all emotional, headfucks and manipulation. Probably not a surprise that she ended up with a hot mess like Cal.’
I clenched my fists.
‘And has he . . .’ I started, relief coursing through me as she quickly shook her head.
