Page 10 of Road Rash

The next thing I know, a loud crack pulls me from my slumber. My eyes pop open and I sit up way too fast causing pain and dizziness. It’s dark. Not only in the room but outside as well. And Dane is lying next to me. His eyes are open but not on me, but like he’s concentrating. It appears by how plastered to his side I am, that I’d gotten real up close and personal with him while I slept, snuggling in next to him. Awkward.

“Wait here,” he whispers, and before he exits the bed, he bends in to press a firm kiss to my lips.

“Where are you going?” I ask in a whisper too.

“Goin’ to get my shotgun. Then I’m takin’ a look around.”

“Be careful, Dane.”

He cuts his eyes to me and I swear my breath leaves me in a silent woosh. I still don’t understand what’s happening between us yet. With a look like that, it has to be good.

Part of me wants to slip out of bed to follow him. But with my head injury, I’d probably end up being more of a liability. Even risking his safety. So, I stay put exactly as he directed. Well, I stay put until I hear the shotgun blast. Then, despite the woozy, nauseous feeling that hits, I shoot up out of the bed and end up using the nightstand to keep myself from face planting.

Once I’m able, I sneak out to the hallway and make my way into the living room, peering out the curtain. Nothing there that I can see. Then I move into the kitchen and peer out the window of the backdoor. Old Man—Dane—is stalking toward the porch, shotgun hanging at his side. He throws the door open forcing me to jump out of the way or risk getting knocked over. He stops short, clearly not expecting me to be there.

“Thought I told you to wait in the bedroom.”

“I heard a gunshot. What if you’d been hurt? You can’t expect me to stay in the room not knowing if you’d been hurt.”

He sighs, reaching his hand out to tug me to him. He presses his forehead against the uninjured side of mine. I settle against him somehow feeling like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be, in his arms.

“Saw someone by the trailer. That’s the shot you heard. Whoever it was took off running, but not before throwin’ a brick through one of the windows.”

“Does this happen often? It’s been a year since I’ve been here. Has the crime rate gone up?”

“No,” he answers. Well, that’s worrisome, then. I press in deeper against him.

“I’m scared.”

“Baby, I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you again.”

That’s exactly what scares me the most. A single tear rolls down my cheek. “I think you and me need to talk.”

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