Page 37 of It Never Was

"I thought I was apologizing," he breathes on my neck.

"I mean with your words." My body grows more tense.

"Let me show you first." He nips at my neck. "Let me make you feel how sorry I am."

Pulling me into his arms, my back lifting off the car, Devon opens the car door, leaning me down on his passenger seat. The smell of cigarettes and oak fills the air around me.

Pressing his forehead against mine, he asks, "Can you let me do that?" as his eyes pierce mine.

"My car, Devon." I go to lift myself off the seat, but his hands are on my arms before I can move an inch. Shoving me back into the seat with force.

"I will bring you back in the morning for your shift, forget about your car." His grip grows tighter with each word. "Stop trying to ruin this, fuck," he scoffs out.

His words make me flinch.

"Okay," I whisper, "as long as you will bring me back in the morning." My obedience makes a smile form at the corner of his mouth.

My body relaxes a fraction.

"I love you, baby." He kisses the top of my head then shuts the door to the car before making his way around and getting in the driver's side.

He starts the Mustang, and the air grows thicker as I look out the side window at my car still in my usual parking spot. My gut starts to twist. I have a feeling I shouldn't leave my car, but it's too late now. Devon is whipping out of the parking lot, his hand on my thigh.

23

Ryen

As Devon follows me up the walkway to my house, his body pressing against the back of mine. I have the keys ready to press into the keyhole, but to my surprise the door creaks open as I apply pressure.

Fucking Sharry doesn't care if I live or die apparently.

This isn't the first time I have come home to the house unlocked or the door open for the whole neighborhood and strangers to come in and take a gander. A small perk that came with living with a drunk, I guess.

Devon doesn't seem to mind my mother's carelessness because he just keeps pushing me further inside the door, his arms engulfing me from behind. Trying to show me how sorry he was for his actions.

"Let me lock the door first," I say, rushing to the door and leaving his embrace. But he follows me the whole way, standing right behind me. His breath returns to my neck as I turn the deadbolt and the handle lock.

Letting out a breath once both locks are in place, I place my bag on one of the hooks on the dingy beige wall. Each of them has a small pine tree painted on the front of them. Some of them have been worn down throughout the years. Chipped and scratched, except for the one I always use. This one still has the tree fully intact. My mother painted them when I was younger, before my dad left. I must have been three years old then. I don't know how I remember it so vividly. The sun seemed to shine so much brighter then. The smile my mother had on her face as she painted each hook, she was so happy. She was a whole different person then.

I rub my thumb on it as I release the weight of the bag from my hand. Devon spins me around as soon as I do.

"And I thought you would feel safe with me here." He comments.

While yes, I feel more secure with Devon here, there is still this part of me that feels I need to keep my guard up. A voice in the back of my head telling me to keep one eye open and my alarms up.

"Of course, I do. I just want to be safe. Habit, I guess," I say, lowering my face to the ground, not wanting him to read my inner thoughts.

He must sense my shift in energy because he tips my chin to him with one finger, so my eyes are connected to his. "You sure about that, baby?" His voice turns to gravel. "'Cause it seems to me like you are a little scared…of me."

I pull at my sweater, trying to dry my sweaty palms in the process as the lump in my throat starts to form.

He didn't read your mind, relax.

"It's okay…to be scared." He pulls my face closer, and I adjust on my feet, rising to my tippy toes to combat the pull up to his height. My mere five-foot five inches next to his six-foot stance. "I like it when you get a little scared of me."

My mouth feels dry suddenly as I try to swallow.

He likes me scared?

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