“Three, actually. One and a half in the morning, then the same back at night.”
“That’s a good walk.” Fuck, I had no idea it was that far. If you’re doing it for exercise, it’s probably great, but out here, walking on the side of the road, with backpacks after a long day at work and school, I can’t imagine that’s easy.
“Well, I don’t go to the gym anymore, so it’s my daily exercise.” She rubs her temples, and I know I was right earlier when I mentioned her head must be thumping.
“Got pain relief at home?” I murmur to her quietly, not wanting James to worry about her.
“Sure.” Her voice sounds too upbeat, and I know she’s lying. The little fibs roll off her tongue like oil touching water.
“It’s just up here.” She points out the windshield and I see a small dirt road up ahead.
“You can drop us off here at the end of the road.” Like hell I can. I can’t see any homes around here, nothing but the thick dense forest.
“I’ll take you up.” I turn in and continue to drive. She looks at me in question, and I notice her hand gripping on to the door handle so hard her knuckles are white. But she stays quiet.
“We’re at the end of the road.”
I can feel her unease, hear her hesitance. I could tell her she’s in safe hands, that she doesn’t need to worry, but that’s a conclusion she needs to come to herself. I’ll prove myself to her. I haven’t had to do that in a long time, but I will.
Not being a local, I have no idea where we are or who owns this land. I see a small cottage up ahead and slow down as I approach. I’m not sure if it’s scary as fuck or like a fairy tale. On a bright sunny day, this would be extremely tranquil. I can envision butterflies dancing around and birds singing. But at night, who knows what animals are out here? The cottage looks quaint but old, and as Rochelle mentioned, I don’t see any vehicles around. But there’s a small garden of flowers, some lawn that’s cleared at the front, and what looks to be a large apple tree standing in the center.
I pull to a stop and James opens the door, jumping out. “Thanks, Sutton,” he singsongs, grabbing his backpack before running inside.
“Here.” I grab the small bag from the drugstore and hand it to her. “I got this for you.”
Lips pursed, she looks into the bag, and then her eyes widen in surprise. It’s just a bottle of pain relief, an ice pack, some antiseptic cream and Arnica, plus a few bags of peanut butter cups to make her feel better. But she looks at it like it’s a pot of gold or something. Without a word, I jump out of the truck and walk around her side.
I take in a deep breath, the cool afternoon air fresh. James has turned on a light inside as I open her door, just as she turns to get out, and I meet her, eye to eye. I grit my teeth, the blue of her skin still making my shoulders tense.
“You alright out here?” My hands are placed on either side of the door, effectively keeping her in place.
She nods slowly. “Mm-hmm. We’re fine.”
“You got anyone to call if you're not?” I know she doesn’t. Rochelle, maybe. But that would be it. Considering Rochelle is married to the sheriff, there's probably no better person to have in your corner.
She shakes her head, a small hint of vulnerability cloaking her face. “We’ve got no one else. It’s just us.”
“Put your number in.” I hand her my phone, and she looks at me with more hesitance, taking a deep breath. “I won't let anyone have your number. I won’t tell anyone you live here. But I will text you so you have mine in case you need anything.”
After another pause, she moves to take my cell, putting in her number.
“You and Rochelle are the only two people that know my number.” Her eyes meet mine in a silent pact. Trust. She’s trusting me to keep it that way, and I nod quickly in understanding.
“Here.” I grab her waist, lifting her from the truck, her small size making it easy, and place her on her feet right in front of me. She looks up, her hair falling away, her eyes searching mine.
“Thanks, Sutton.” It’s not the words, but the way she says them that has my chest burning. I feel it. I feel her gratitude, her genuine nature. People say sweet things to me all the time. But I know they never mean them. They’re just words. They throw them around, telling me what they think I want to hear. What they think will get them what they want.
Nikki doesn’t want anything. In fact, she’s the total opposite and probably doesn’t want me around. I’m a global movie star, my face familiar, privacy not something I have, and while many people want in on that lifestyle, I know Nikki isn’t one of them. That’s what I like about her the most. The simple things impress her. The real me. Not the movie star me. I have a feeling she’s seen all the same bullshit I have.
“Anytime.” I absentmindedly brush my fingers across her blue-tinted skin once more, carefully, still not over the fact that some asshole decided to take her money and put their hands on her. “Better get inside before James finds a mouse.”
Head tilting, she looks at me like I have three heads.
“Benjamin Franklin had a pet mouse he trained,” I explain, and she releases a breath of relief, then shakes her head and smiles.
"Benjamin Franklin also thought taking 'air baths'—basically sitting around naked—was good for his health. I think I’d take the mouse over that.” She steps away from me, walking up to her house. I watch her the entire way, my mind now on seeing her in an air bath, and I know I’m too far gone.
I should’ve listened to Sawyer and kept my distance, because now that we’re friends, there’s no way I can turn back.
