Page 32 of Every Hidden Truth

The moment I putMabel in Park in my driveway, the panic broke through. Gasping against my steering wheel, I tried and failed to keep control. My lungs twisted until I couldn’t catch my breath, and tears burned my eyes.

The faucet wasdrip, drip, dripping.

Eric’s fingers tightened around my throat.

I was surrounded by cucumber melon.

And I couldn’t breathe.

I lost track of how long the panic locked me in place, but when I finally surfaced, my head was protesting how hard my forehead pressed to the steering wheel. My jaw ached, and I was half-frozen.

Groaning, I righted myself with a wince as my stiff muscles complained. Thawing my frigid limbs, I crawled from my cab and staggered into the house.

I shed my clothes on my bedroom floor, then took a broiling shower. My face throbbed with every beat of my heart. WhenI finished, I dressed in loose sweatpants and one of Will’s old shirts.

I searched through the freezer until I found a bag of frozen peas and proceeded to lie on the couch with the cold vegetables melting on my face. It helped, and the swelling lessened as I moaned like a dying whale.

As I wallowed in my agony, I couldn’t shake the worry and guilt over Ben’s bloodied face. He would never have been on Eric’s radar if it wasn’t for me, and now they’d beaten the shit out of each other and could have been facing suspension for all I knew.

By the time headlights flashed over the walls of my living room, the peas had softened and the cushion beneath my head was damp from condensation. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the door, breathing a sigh of relief as Ben parked his Impala behind Mabel.

He’d barely shuffled out of his car before I was flying down my porch steps and rushing to his side. My breath puffed in front of my face as I skidded to a stop, fisting my hands to keep myself from launching myself into his arms. I wanted to hold him, to make sure he was okay, but he moved gingerly, catering to the bruises most likely hiding beneath his clothes.

“Ben—”

He cut me off, grabbing the loose material of my shirt and hauling me into his arms. I circled his waist and hugged him like he was the last parachute on a plummeting plane. He grunted in pain, and I loosened my hold.

“Are you okay?” Muffled by his coat, my words were barely intelligible. “Are you hurt? Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

“I’m okay,” he said, his breath fanning over my ear. “Are you? Your jaw was swollen when you left.”

“I’m fine.” I dismissed my own injury and dragged him toward the front door, my bare feet and arms freezing in the winter cold.

As we climbed the porch steps, I inspected his face from the corner of my eye and cringed. His lower lip was puffy and split, his cheek swollen. An ugly bruise darkened his eye above a cut, and he lacked the normal grace in which he moved. He was definitely hurt under his clothes.

Once inside, I assisted him in removing his winter coat, and he hissed as he bent to untie his boots.

Pushing his shoulders, I forced him upright then dropped to my knees. “Let me.”

Unlacing his winter boots, I helped him out of them as his hands rested on my shoulders for balance. Once I finished, he offered me a hand, helping me stand.

I pointed at the couch. “Go sit.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re gonna order me around now?”

“Yes. Now sit your ass down.”

While he obeyed, I made my way to the downstairs bathroom and poured several aspirin into my palm. I swallowed one of them, leaving the other two for Ben. I retrieved a glass of water and a bag of frozen green beans before heading back to the living room.

When I returned to the living room, he was already sitting on the couch, head reclined on the back, eyes closed. They opened as I rounded the couch and handed him the glass and aspirin.

“Thanks.” He grinned, then winced when the action tugged on his split lip. “You hungry?”

He motioned to the veggies in my hand, and I rolled my eyes. “No, I just don’t have an actual ice pack for you.”

Chuckling, he swallowed the aspirin and half the water. “That’ll work.”

I cautiously lowered myself to the couch beside him, trying not to jostle him, and reached for his blood-stained shirt. “I know you’re hurt. Let me see.”

---