Page 13 of Ruined

My eyes snap open, only there’s no longer a gun pressed against me or aimed in my direction. He’s no longer in front of me. Instead, Jace stands there, breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling as he stares into my face. Looking over, I’m shocked to find the guy lying on the ground. His hands wrap around something lodged in his throat. I squint my eyes trying to see what it is…a fucking pen.

Jace stabbed him in the throat with a pen.

“Sunshine,” Jace whispers.

Looking up, he holds a hand down for me. Glancing between him and his hand, covered in blood, I swallow the lump in my throat before slipping my hand into his. Ignoring the tingle in my skin that I’m willingly touching another human, a man, nonetheless.

Jace might not be all that bad. At least not yet.

6

I’m not sure what makes me more upset. The fact we were attacked, or that I found Blake kneeling on the ground, accepting the fact she was about to be shot. I have no idea how they found us; I had nothing on me that could be tracked. So, unless Blake did, they were trailing us and that means I failed to realize this, which doesn’t sit well with me either.

Then, finding Blake kneeling there, accepting the fact she was going to have her brain blown out across the concrete—it makes me sick, like she was okay with dying there. She was giving up. One fight and she was willing to give it all up. As if her life had no meaning. She had accepted defeat, and I’m not okay with that.

Tightening my grip on her hand, I drag her across the parking lot of the motel. Picking an older car around the building, I stop by the driver’s side. “Be on the lookout,” I grunt, dropping her hand. Blake nods her head, turning around. Pulling the door handle, I send a thanks to the man above that it’s unlocked. Ripping the steering column off I grab ahold of the wires and settle down on the ground. It takes me a few tries to get it hot-wired as it’s been yearssince I've had to do this. Finally, the car starts. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stand, turning around to Blake.

“Get in,” I order.

Blake gets into the passenger side as I climb into the driver’s side. Pulling out, we have a few options: stop at the store and get supplies since most of our belongings are left behind, or we can continue driving on and hope that more of Antonio’s men aren’t following behind us.

Seeing Walmart from the corner of my eye, I make a split-second decision to pull into the lot, parking the car in the back.

Blake looks at the store and then at me, frowning, her hands moving around before she drops them and throws her head back.

“We’re here so I can get in contact with a friend and so we can also grab some supplies,” I answer, hoping that’s the question she was trying to ask. Thankfully, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her lips. I might not be able to understand sign language, but I like to think I’m starting to understand what she wants to say or ask.

Getting out, Blake is already up and closing the passenger door. “No more opening your door for yourself.” I have no real reason for the words that are coming out of my mouth. You can say it’s because I’m being protective or because I find myself wanting her more and more.

Blake tilts her head to the side, studying me, raising a brow.

“I would like it if you stopped getting out…let me open the door for you.”

When did I become an awkward man, acting like a teenage boy who didn’t know how to speak to a girl? Fuck, if Ryker could see this, he’d probably kick my ass.

“Okay, let’s go,” I mumble. Leading the way, she walks beside me, hood back over her head. Blake tilts her head to the side, watching those around us. I know she’s looking for a threat, not that I’m not doing the same. But for Blake it’s different. She’s watching because she’s afraid. I’m watching because it’s my job.

Blake flinches the further we walk on the asphalt.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stopping in front of her. Glancing up, she rolls her lips over, biting down on her cheek. “Come on,” I beg.

Her eyes drop, taking me longer to finally notice her problem. She didn’t have any shoes on, and I just made her walk barefoot across the parking lot.

“Fuck, I’m a dumbass,” I mutter to myself. “Alright, step one, get you some shoes.” Glancing towards the entrance, I debate on asking before I just blurt out, “Climb on my back.”

Blake chews on her bottom lip before shaking her head no.

“I’m serious, get on my back. I’ll carry you through the store just to get you shoes and then you can go right back to walking.” Remembering to ASL for “promise,” my finger touches my lip before placing it against my closed fist.

Blake’s eyes widen, glancing down at my hands, then back to my face. Slowly she reaches between us, her hand shaking as she releases my thumb from my fist. Bringing her finger to her lips, she signs “promise.” Following her lead, I do exactly as she did, earning a tilted smile. I call that a win.

“Promise,” I whisper.

I don’t know when I became soft, but I find myself willing to do more and more to make sure she’s comfortable. I know she hates being touched, but the craving to be near her, to feel her skin against mine… It’s becoming more than just a want; I need to. So I’m seconds away from begging on my knees to let me hold her even if it’s just on my back.

Blake nods her head, waving her hand down. I can’t hide my smile as I do as she wants, getting down on my knees. Moving around, she hesitantly hooks her arms around my neck, and I lift. Her legs wrap around my waist.

“You okay?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, watching her from the corner of my eye. Blake nods her head, tightening her grip around my neck. “Alright, let’s go.”

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