Page 41 of Chasing Wildflowers
I stalk toward Luke, my boots thundering against the floor as I close the distance. Reaching down, I grab him by the throat and haul him up. His hands hang limply at his sides, blood dripping down his chin.
“You fucked up.” I draw my fist back, ramming it into his already assaulted nose with a satisfying crunch. He stumbles back, hands flying to his nose. More blood pours out, his hands not doing much to stop it.
I clamp a hand around the back of his neck and haul him toward the door, tossing him out. He slams onto the hard ground, groaning as he rolls across the unforgiving pavement.
I close the distance, a murderous glint in my eye. My heavy boot comes down on his gut, hard, pulling a pathetic groan from his throat. “If you ever come near my girl again, I’ll make your death slow and painful.”
I kick him again. “Get the fuck out of here.”
He pulls himself up, one arm gripping his stomach, though he’s anything but steady on his feet. Hiseyes flick between me and the door, before booking it to his truck, slipping a few times on the way.
I watch his taillights disappear down the street, fading into the night.
Inside I find Lane right where I left her. Her body trembles, eyes staring straight ahead. I cup the side of her face, drawing her eyes to mine. “Let me clean up, then I’ll use your phone to call Rodney to come in and cover. Then I’ll take you home, Wildflower.”
Again, a small nod is the only indication that she hears me.
The drive to her house is silent, the gentle hum of the engine the only sound. My eyes flick to her every few seconds, my hands tightening on the wheel as I fight against the urge to pull over and drag her onto my lap.
I roll my Bronco to a stop in front of her house, killing the engine. Crickets chirp in the background, their night song adding to the tension that hangs heavy in the air.
I turn, taking her in, the dim street lights casting shadows across her face. She’s staring out the window, unmoving.
My chest tightens. I call her name softly, coaxing her back to me. “Wildflower.”
She flinches at my voice, despite the gentleness of my tone. Her eyes dart around, wild and unfocused, before landing on me. Her shoulders start to shake as she breaks, sobs wracking her body, raw and unstoppable.
I reach across the cab and pull her to me. She doesn’t fight it, allowing me to settle her across my lap. She buries her head in my chest, tears soaking my shirt, her sobs filling the space.
My arms encircle her, holding her to me. Afraid she’s going to fall apart if I let go. “Do you want me to call Kam?” I whisper against her hair, my chest squeezing tighter with each sob that leaves her.
Walking away and letting Kam comfort her would kill me, but I will if I'm not who she needs.
She says nothing.
“Baby, either I call her or I stay. I’m not leaving you alone right now.”
“I want you to stay.” It comes out in a whisper, so soft I barely hear it.
I carry her inside, bridal style, and lay her down on her bed, like she’s the most delicate thing in the world. I stretch out beside her on my side, fingers ghosting through her hair as I gaze down at her.
The moonlight and streetlamps bleed in through the curtains, painting her face in soft, forgiving light that doesn’t match the pain written across her face.
Her gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unblinking, as silent tears stream down her face.
My thumb gently swipes a tear away that trails down her temple. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
She turns, curling into me, her voice raw. “Just hold me.”
My chest cracks open as my arms come around her, pulling her closer until she is flush against me. My fingers brush through her hair softly, giving her what comfort I can. Eventually, her breathing evens out as she drifts off, but still, I don’t let go.
My mind drifts to a night years ago, when I held my mom while she cried, holding a rag full of ice to her swollen eye, after one of dad’s beatings. I’ll never forgetthe way her body shook against my small frame, the smell of stale bourbon and cheap aftershave thick in the air.
I’ll never know what it is to be a woman in that situation, but I do know what it is to have someone strip your power away. To make you feel small and weak.
My dad made me feel small and weak.
He held the house like a kingdom, ruling it with fists and fear. The rules were strict and the punishment immediate. I learned young what a man could be when he chooses to dominate.
