Page 44 of Home Is Where You Are

We walked to the barn in silence. My hand settled on the small of her back as I guided her down the lit stone path.

When we arrived at my room, Ainsleigh remained silent, and I wished she would just say what was on her mind. I hated that I couldn’t read her like I used to. Even if it was for the best. Learning her tells would only leave me with more heartache when she walked out of my life again. I could still feel the warmth of her lips against mine, and I had to find a way to push those thoughts to the wayside until I was alone and could process how I felt.

I shouldn’t have kissed her.

But I couldn’t help myself.

Sawyer told us repeatedly over the years that life was full of moments, and you had to grab the bull by the horns and live in the moment because you never knew when that moment would be your last.

And I had to embrace the moment.

I shut the door behind me as she walked over to the bed; the air mattress remained on the floor from where I slept last night.

Turning the overhead light on so I could see her better, I waited in my spot by the door to see what she would do, hoping she’d say something so I knew where her head was at.

“Can I get something to sleep in? I don’t have the energy to go inside and grab anything,” she whispered.

I walked over to my dresser on the other side of the room and pulled out a T-shirt. With the shirt fisted in my hand, I walked over to her and stopped just as I stood in front of her. She peered up at me with so many questions in her eyes, a hint of longing just underneath the surface. I felt this pull toward her I couldn’t explain. I cupped her cheek in my hand, and her breathing quickened as I leaned in. I needed to kiss her as much as I needed my next breath.

I looked into her eyes just as our lips were mere inches apart, questioning her. She swallowed, and when she didn’t pull away, I placed a featherlight kiss upon her lips. She sighed at our connection, but before I could deepen the kiss, I pulled away. We couldn’t get carried away.

I handed her the shirt and went back over to the dresser to find a pair of sweats. Something to refrain me from kissing her again.

She turned away from me and took off the sleeveless top.

Briefly, I caught sight of the handprint tattooed on her shoulder and had to take a deep breath to hold myself together. I’d never seen a tattoo that lifelike, and the meaning behind it made it that much harder to rein in the emotions.

I shook those thoughts away as I turned and searched for a pair of sweats just in case she wanted them. With the sweatpants clenched in my fist, I turned around to find Ainsleigh had rid herself of her shorts and boots and was pulling the bedding back to climb into my bed.

She turned to the side, and my eyes zeroed in on the blueish marks on her arm.

Anger boiled inside me all over again at the imprint of fingers marring her flesh.

Without thought, I tossed the sweats on the top of the dresser and walked over to her.

Standing in front of her, I gently caressed the marks that should never have happened. What I really wanted to do was kiss each bruise until the thoughts of that man hurting her left her subconscious, but I refrained. We’d already pushed our luck tonight with that kiss. We shouldn’t push it even further.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked as she shivered against my fingertips.

“Yeah,” she replied as she looked to the ground.

A tell that hadn’t changed.

When she would lie to any of us, she could never look us in the eye. She always looked away or toward the ground so we couldn’t read her facial expressions.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I grit out. Not angry at her, but angry at the man who'd dared put his hands on her. I’d get with her brothers later so we could find out who he was.

She shook her head before she looked up at me. Tears filled her eyes, and I knew she was going to finally face how tonight made her feel. Thankful that she still felt comfortable to show her emotions, when she would try so hard to bottle them up, only facing them when she was alone.

“I thought we were having fun. He said something crude, and I laughed it off and tried to walk away. That’s when he got mad and grabbed me. Dylan told him to back off, but he laughed and ignored him. Next thing I knew, you were beside me and hit him,” she confessed and looked away from me, shame marring her face.

I reached up and tilted her head back so she could look me in the eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed about. It was just dancing. He shouldn’t have thought anything more. And he shouldn’t have touched you. No man should ever put his hands on a woman out of anger,” I said as her eyes moved back and forth, taking in what I spoke.

She nodded as the first tear fell.

I pulled her into me and wrapped my arms around her shoulders to comfort her.