Page 48 of Wanting Wentworth

Glancing at the fuel gage, I see that it’s dipping dangerously close to empty. The last thing I need is to be stranded on some dark, dirt road with Brock Morris for company. Give me a pack of wolves any day.

Giving him a jerky headshake, I lean my forehead against the passenger side window and close my eyes. “No,” I say softly, my warm breath bouncing back to me against the cool glass. “I don’t mind as long as you take me home after.”

I did the one thing I shouldn’t have.

The one thing I knew was a mistake, the second I opened my eyes.

I fell asleep.

The last thing I remember is Brock pulling into the self-serve gas station on the corner of Main and Eugene. It was closed but the pumps were still on. Mr. Sutton closes the pay booth at 9PM but there’s an on your honor cash box bolted to the door for people who need to fill up after hours.

Brock hopped out and I watched him stuff a wad of bills into the box before making his way back to the pumps.

That’s the last thing I remember.

“Where are we?” I ask quietly, peering out the window into the dark, nothing but the shapes of trees bathed in moonlight beyond it. There are trees everywhere in Barrett. We could be anywhere.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Brock says in that too nice tone that makes me nervous. “You nodded off on the way home so I thought I’d take a drive around the lake a time or two to give you a chance to sleep before I took you home.”

Northpoint.

Aiming my gaze past him, I can see the moon dancing on the water, the sparkle of it broken by the thick stand of trees that separate the narrow road we’re on from the shore. On the other side of it, I can see the steep pitch of the lake house roof, glowing silver, its windows dark.

“Oh...” Alarm bells ringing in the distance because we’re not driving. We’re parked by the lake, his truck concealed by the trees. “Thank you...” Forcing myself to be polite, I do everything I can to keep my tone neutral. “I’m awake now. You can head back to the house—I know you’ve probably been up since sunrise.” According to the clock on his dash, it’s nearly 2AM. “You must be as tired as I am.”

He laughs, the sound of it sending those alarm bells jangling down my spine. “No sense in hurrying off, Kaitydid,” he tells me, gaze still aimed out the windshield. “Like you said—you’re awake now.”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Yes, but—”

“I stole a couple of blankets from the church ladies.” He talks over me, ignoring my protest while the corner of his mouth lifts in that smile that used to make me weak in the knees. “Since you’re awake, I think we’ll spread ‘em out in the bed of my truck and do some star-gazing.”

The first time he brought me out here to star-gaze, I was fifteen and I thought I was the luckiest girl in the valley. It didn’t take me very long to realize how wrong I was.

“Brock,” I try again, doing my best to beat back the panic that’s starting to chew into my belly. “I’ve had a really long day. I just want to—”

Brock turns in his seat to look at me.

He’s not smiling anymore.

“I don’t remember asking you what you want,” he tells me, his too nice tone going hard around its edges. “Now—” Reaching up, he gives the key dangling from the steering column a twist, killing the engine. “We can either do this, nice and easy, in the bed of my truck like we used to or—”

“Okay.” I nod, swallowing hard against the knot of fear lodged in my throat. Still nodding, I reach for the handle on my door. “We can look at the stars.” I push a smile onto my face while my fingers wrap around the handle. “I’m just nervous, is all.”

“It’s okay, Kaitydid.” My admission makes him smile again. “There’s nothing to be nervous about—it ain’t nothing we haven’t done before, right?”

Still nodding, my stomach gives a sickening lurch. “Right,” I answer him, even managing to smile—right before I yank my door open and bolt.

I don’t get far—not more than a few yards away from the truck before he catches me.

“Where you going, Kaitydid?” he asks, a split second before I feel his hand wrapping itself in my hair, the painful jerk of it stopping me in my tracks.

Like an animal caught in a trap, I round on him, swinging wildly, desperate to get away from him. If I can just get away from him, I can run to the lake house. That’s where Went is and no matter how angry he is with me, I know he’ll—

“Goddamnit.” One of my wild swings connects with soft tissue and Brock lets out a roar. “I thought you said you wanted it nice and easy…” Spinning me around, he slams me into the side of his truck, my head ricocheting off the flared wheel well so hard my eyes instantly swim out of focus and the world around me slips away before I even hit the ground.

---