I remove a second helmet from a saddlebag on my bike, straddle the leather seat, clear the pleading from my eyes with a handful of blinks, then raise them to Demi. She’s standing almost in the exact spot her uncle left her. Her eyes are still wide and terrified, but the blood dribbling down her nose has cleared away, and the swelling of her cheek has almost closed the gash under her right eye. If I were unaware of what she faced tonight, I could almost pretend the coloring under her eye is from a lack of sleep. Unfortunately for Demi, I’m not willing to do that. I let her leave with Col, so I’m partly responsible for the pain she’s enduring.
“Please,” I silently beg, knowing I’ll never leave her here, but praying like fuck I don’t have to fear her into doing as I’m asking. She’s scared enough. I don’t want to add to the terror she was forced to endure tonight.
My silent prayers are answered when Demi stuffs her purse under her arm, then pushes off her feet a couple of seconds later. Her steps are shaky, and not an ounce of trust is seen in her eyes, but she took a leap of faith. I can help her regain the rest.
“Lift your chin for me.”
When she does as requested, I place my spare helmet on her head, then tighten the straps under her chin before holding out my hand to help her onto the back of my bike.
“Have you ever ridden on a bike before?” I feel the shake of her head more than I see it. “The sissy bar will ensure you won’t slide off, but if you’re worried, you can hold onto my waist.”
I stop imagining Col gargling in a pool of his own blood when Demi’s arms slip around my waist, and her unbruised cheek presses against my back.
After squeezing her hands, wordlessly ensuring her I’ve got her, I kick over my bike, then merge into traffic. Even with the hour late, traffic is thick. The cars that forever clog the streets of Ravenshoe are one of the reasons I got my bike license. I can whip in and out of traffic with ease, meaning our twenty-mile commute is done in less than fifteen minutes. It would take more than three times that in a car.
I park my bike at the side of a set of stairs before helping Demi off the back. Our ride through the hilly streets soothed her shakes as well as it dampened my anger. I’m still on the brink of blowing my top, but since I’d rather make sure Demi is okay than go on a murderous rampage, it isn’t as obvious.
After dragging her eyes over a wooden cabin nestled in the foothills of a national park, Demi asks, “Is this—”
“The Walsh family cabineveryonethis side of the country has partied in at least once in their life? Yes, it is.”
While handing me her helmet, Demi mumbles, “Not everyone. I’ve never been here.”
“You were invited.Manytimes.” I know this for a fact because it was a lakeside party five years ago that had me pushing on the brakes. Demi’s name was the first one Saint scribbled at the top of the invite list that year. That spot is only ever reserved for the girls he’s interested in. Usually, if his invitation went unopened, he scratched her name off the list, then moved on to another wannabee conquest. Demi’s name is the only one that’s remained at the top of the list for as long as it has.
Considering the circumstances of her visit, this isn’t a conversation we should be having, but since it will keep her focus off her swollen eye, I continue guiding us down the slippery slope. “If I recall correctly, one year you had to wash your hair, the next year your grandmother died, and the year following that—”
“My grandmother actuallydiddie.” I can’t tell if it’s remorse dangling off Demi’s vocal cords or guilt. It may be a combination of both. “I wanted to come, Maddox. I just…couldn’t.”
“I know,” I reply, weakening the groove between her dark brows. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
As she follows me up the marble-clad staircase, she chews on her bottom lip. I really wish she wouldn’t. I’m not a teen boy who can’t control his cock. I’m afraid she’ll inflict more damage to her delectable mouth. It’s not split like her cheek, but it’s pretty damn close.
I’ve barely worked my jaw side to side two times when a gruff voice says, “Hot-fuckin’-damn. I can finally scratch your name off the list. Demi she’s-so-pretty Petretti, the holy grail of Seacoast Private Academy, hasfinallyrocked up to a Walsh get-together. My every desire has now been catered to. I can die a happy man.”
After rolling her eyes at Caidyn’s dramatics, Demi gallops up the stairs to throw her arms around his neck. Caidyn is the Mr. Popularity of our family. The girls love his ‘sensitive’ side, the boys want to learn his ways, and more than once, I’ve strived to emulate him, although that’s far from my mind when I realize what he’s wearing. He’s shirtless and almost fucking pantless. Nothing but a super-thin pair of boxer shorts are between Demi and his cock.
I’m seconds from knocking out some of his teeth, but the panic in his eyes when he locks them with mine over Demi’s shoulder stops me. “What the fuck happened to her face?”The redness on his face matches mine to a T. As does the murderous gleam in his blue eyes.
“I’ll tell you later,”I mouth back before I pretend Demi is here under an entirely different set of circumstances. “I texted that we were coming, Caidyn, so why the fuck aren’t you wearing pants?”
Caidyn’s laugh reveals he understands my ruse, but Demi is utterly oblivious. She whispers an apology to Caidyn when I remove her arms from his shoulders, spin her away from his buff body, then whack him in the stomach. “Go to bed, grandpa. Everyone knows you haven’t been up this late since high school.”
I jerk up my chin to Caidyn’s unvoiced request for us to have a word once Demi is settled before guiding her into the bathroom attached to the master suite. I’m not a paramedic, but I’ve got to do something to lessen the chance the split in her cheek will scar. Her eyes are so mesmerizing, I doubt anything could steal their devotion. I just don’t want to pop into her thoughts anytime she sees her scar. I want to be there for far better reasons than that.
“Holy shit,” Demi murmurs when our entrance into the bathroom has her spotting her reflection.
“It’s okay,” I assure her when she pivots away from herself, too horrified to look at the damage a member of her family did to her. “You don’t need to look. I just want to clean it up a little.”
To back up my pledge, I grab one of the king-size towels off the rack, then curl it over the mirror’s frame. Once it’s covered, I snag the first-aid kit out of the cupboard before placing it onto the vanity. Demi watches me with her arms curled around her midsection and her eyes fixed on the floor. When I nudge my head to the first-aid kit, she sheepishly shakes her head.
“I don’t care what I look like. I just don’t want you seeing me like this.”
Her eyes float up from the floor when I ask, “See you like what? Brave? Fucking strong?” I pull her arms down from her waist before carefully tugging her toward me. “I’ve seen grown men go down crying after one hit. You’ve yet to release a single tear.”
Her lips quiver as she struggles not to respond to the pride in my voice. I’d be a lying prick if I said her unshed tears aren’t cutting through me like a knife. I’d give anything to stop them from occurring, but since I know that will hurt her more in the long run, I have no choice but to encourage them.
I lift her to sit on the counter before saying, “While I get you cleaned up, why don’t you tell me about the time you made Robert Flint come in his pants with only a peck kiss.”
