Page 31 of The Baby
Maybe one of Ellie’s old college friends? She looked about the same age. Maybe a year or twoyounger.
“Uh,sortof.”
Sort of. “They know you’re coming? On Thanksgiving ofalldays?”
That’s when her mouth turned. Into this hard line, as if I had raised every one of her defenses. “Who are you? Some kind of cop or something? It’s none of your fuckingbusiness.”
Seriously. Could this day get any worse? Between my drunk father, lying to Ellie again, trying to get all his shit done so I could get my shit done. Now I was missing turkey and stuffing and some of the red wine I had in the truck, to help this girl who clearly didn’t wantanyone’shelp.
If I were an asshole, I would have told her good luck and happy Thanksgiving, gotten back in my truck anddroveaway.
I wasn’t an asshole. On most daysanyway.
“Your car is fried. It’s not going to make it to where you want to go, but I’m heading there now. I’lltakeyou.”
Again she stepped back, away from me. Back on serial killeralert.
It was enough to piss me off. Here I was not being an asshole, and still getting lumped in with all the bad guys on theplanet.
“You know what? Fuck it. You’re too afraid to be alone with me, fine. I really don’t care. Sit your ass on the side of the road and I’ll let Jake and Ellie know they’ve got company theysort of knowcoming. I’ll send someone back with Ellie, even though that will probably ruin her Thanksgiving.Satisfied?”
I started to make my way back to my truck when I heard her runafterme.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m just… please don’t leave me out here. It’s so freakingscary.”
Scary? There was nothing but road and grass as far as the eyecouldsee.
“There is nothing out here,” Ipointedout.
“Exactly. There isnothingout here. It’s creepingmeout.”
One hundred percent city girl. Just like Ifigured.
“Getinthen.”
She opened the back door of her car and pulled out a suitcase. It was cheap and it bumped along the road as if one of the wheels on the back was sticking and not rolling. I went to grab it and when I felt how heavy it was, I was surprised again. This wasn’t some light packing. The case wasstuffed.
It raised more questions, but I wasn’t about to ask them and get more attitude fired backatme.
I got behind the wheel and watched as she moved the case of wine into the space at her feet and then buckled her seat belt. She was still shivering, so I cranked the heat a little higher than Iliked.
That’s when I saw it—the faint bruising underneath her eye. She was trying to cover it with makeup, and it worked, because at first glance when I saw her I didn’tnoticeit.
Now with the hair pushed back over her shoulder and her chin a little jutted out, her teeth chattering, it was easytosee.
This girl had been hit intheface.
It was strange. I had never known anyone who had been hit before. I mean, I heard those things happened. Knew, from the news, women got abused all over this country. Hell, even my father was a sonofabitch drunk, but he’d certainly never laid a hand on my mom. My mom would have kicked his ass if he’d evertried.
“What are you staring at?” she snapped without turning to face me. This close up, she had to know the bruise would probably be moreobvious.
By asking the question, it was like she was daring me to state theobvious.
I’m staring at your black eye and wondering how ithappened.
She would lie about it. That’s what most women did, didn’t they? Because they were ashamed. Or she could tell me it was none of my fucking business again. Which I supposed itwasn’t.
Still, I had this need to say I’m sorry. To apologize for men everywhere and say we weren’t all jerks who delivered pain. That she was safe with me. That I would neverhurther.
