She nods like she understands, but her eyes are glazed over. Shock. It’s a look I know all too well, living the life I do.
“Amore?”
“I— I need some of my own things. My phone. I need to talk to my dad.” The words are coming out in rapid succession.
“Hey. Don’t worry about anything right now. We can go by and get some of your things, but everything else can wait.” I grip her thigh over the console, trying to ground her. To bring her back and calm her nerves I’m sure are haywire.
She nods again then moves her hand over mine. Her breathing steadies, and the stream of tears finally slows, so I take that as my sign she agrees.
I keep my hand locked around her thigh, not too tight, and back out of the motel parking lot, then start toward her apartment.
Chapter Twenty
Arloe
“I’m okay, Easton. I can walk to my door just fine on my own.” I swipe his hands away, but mainly to keep him from seeing how shaken up I am over this whole ordeal.
My nerves are shot, and I imagine my face is puffy and my eyes are bloodshot red. My mind hasn’t stopped racing, and all I can think about now is rest. This has been an emotional day, and my body is still sore from my night with Easton. It’s funny how with everything that went down today, not once did I think about the bruises that still mark my body.
I guess adrenaline will do that to you. It has a way of pumping you up and pushing all the things that hurt you to the back burner. Pain, deceit, betrayal, none of it holds a candle to the rush you get when your life’s on the line.
Today, I learned that the two men I love the most played with my life like it’s a fucking fiddle, using me for whatever gains they seek. I stop in the middle of the hallway at my thoughts. I love Easton, and I’m starting to hate myself for it. Because after everything, I can’t turn off my heart.
“Amore, let me help you.” His voice is softer than it’s ever been, care and concerned weaved into every syllable he speaks.
“I said I’m fine,” I snap and glance over my shoulder, but I don’t look at him.
He drops his hands from my arms, giving me the space I’m asking him for. That’s not really what I want, but I can’t allow myself towanthim to hold me right now. Not when my emotions are all over the place, not until he confesses everything I learned today.
Pulling my shoulders back, I continue toward my door, noticing the rug outside my apartment is no longer overturned. I remember kicking it when they dragged me out of here, but I guess my neighbors put it back.
Easton follows me inside and closes the door behind us. It’s barely on the hinges, and I don’t remember it being this way when they dragged me out of here.
“I’ll get you some water,” he says to my back while I fall onto the stool in front of the tiny island. “And I’ll have someone come fix the door in the morning.”
I watch him move, and like every other time we’ve been together, he seems so calm and so unfazed. He’s never riled up, never in over his head, even as he carried me away from that raggedy motel, he didn’t blink.
He opens the cupboard for a glass that he fills with water from the sink. I accept it when he hands it to me, but I don’t drink it. I can’t, just the thought of consuming anything turns my stomach, and I know it’s because I’m still shaken up.
Easton is on the opposite side of the counter, his eyes boring into me. He’s attentive like he was last night, and normally I’d love the way he’s looking at me like he wants to take care of me. Though if he’d been honest with me, and not done whatever it was he did with my dad that sent those men to my door, he wouldn’t need to cater to me.
He feels guilty, and it’s written all over his face. Sitting the glass down on the counter, I twirl and stand to my feet. My shoulders slump as I somberly walk toward the back of my apartment. Along the way, I strip out of my nightgown, wanting desperately to wash the smell of that place, the smell of those men off of me.
They didn’t hurt me, thankfully, but their scent still lingers, making me nauseous. When I turn into the bedroom, I see Easton standing in the center of the living room watching me. I ignore him, which is something he’s not used to, and the lines above his brow prove how uncomfortable that makes him.
Good, he should worry.
I make it to my bathroom, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Just like I thought, my eyes are red and puffy, and my skin is tight from the dried tears. My hair is unkempt, my skin sticky from sweat, and my body still shows evidence of the night I had. I rake my hands through my hair, but it does nothing to smooth out the flyaways.
With a deep breath, I push off the counter and reach into the shower, turning the dial to its highest temperature. I step under the stream before the water has a chance to heat all the way up. Wetting my face, I close my eyes before dipping my head into the spray.
I think back to this morning and how afraid I was staring down the barrel of that gun. Unaware if I’d get the opportunity to wake up tomorrow. And as I was tied to that chair, my mind traveled to all the things I’d miss out on. Thoughts of my dad cloud my headspace, and I realize how close I was to never making amends with him.
I feel about him right now the same way I do Easton. Hate is the feeling I want to have, but he’s my dad, and the only parent I have left. So while I’m angry and hurt by all that transpired, I’m unable to turn off my care for him as well.
The tears start again, and a scream builds in my throat. But then I hear the floors in my room creak and know it’s because Easton has followed me into the bath. Thanks to the clear shower curtain, I see him from the corner of my eye just standing in the doorway watching me. Not wanting to acknowledge him, or allow him to see me crying, I dip my head under the water again and turn so that my back is to him.
As I run my palms over my hair, I steal a glance over my shoulder at him. I want to hate him so much right now, but for some sick reason, I don’t. I’m just glad he’s here, even though I know I’ll never have to worry about those jerks again. Easton and his brother made sure of that. I guess I should be thankful for Jude. It’s clear he doesn’t like me, I’ve known that since I walked into the jewelry store, but he still helped Easton save me. So maybe he isn’t so bad after all.
