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Sleep overwhelmed her before she knew it, and a firm hand on her shoulder startled her awake what felt like seconds later.
“Loren—”
Drowsily, she blinked and found Officer McGoven watching her, with one foot out of the truck. “We’re home,” he said.
Home.
Obviously, he was referring to his property alone, but still. In that moment,homeseemed like the proper designation for the big house before her, bathed in the pale light of dawn. She inhaled, greedily sucking in the familiar scent of wind, mud, and horses.Safe.
“Can you walk?”
McGoven was watching her. He kept his distance, but his eyes were on her ankle. Something told her that if she lost her balance, he’d catch her before she could even hit the ground.
Experimentally, she took a step. “I think it’s okay,” she said. The pain was sharp, but not unbearable. She’d felt worse. “I can walk on it.”
Officer McGoven headed straight for the house without acknowledgment. He didn’t look as angry as he had in the truck, but Loren wasn’t fooled. The rage simmered within him, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.
Like, when he turned and saw her weakly limping up the porch steps. His lips curled back from his teeth, and Loren half-expected him to shout. Yell. Smash his curled fists into something.
All he did was nod curtly toward her feet.
“The boots.” His voice rang with authority. “Take them off.”
Without questioning it, Loren sat on the worn wood of the porch and complied. Her feet ached after being confined for so long, but watching her toes, still in their Christmas-themed socks, flex against the floor, she wondered why he made the request at all.
Even more so when he jerked his head curtly to her body. “The jacket, take it off.”
His voice sent a tremor through her body. It was deeper, impossible to resist. Robotically, she dragged the thin material from her shoulders. When she held the jacket out to him, he motioned for her to drop it. Now. He was stiff, his weight balanced on his toes, his eyes blazing as they raked over her battered, dirt-streaked frame.
Was he angry about the damage done to his windbreaker? No. He didn’t even look at the clothing. Just her. A few specific things drew his attention—namely, the dried blood she could feel encrusted over her chin, and the long rip in her dress exposing her thigh.
He swayed when he saw that, and his eyes almost appeared to turn…black—but what upset him most of all, was whatever he sensed when he leaned forward and inhaled the air above her body.
“That dress. Take it off—”
“W-What?” Loren stiffened, crossing her arms over her chest. The brown cotton was filthy and matted with mud around the hem, but it still covered her for the most part. Not to mention, her other clothes were in Kyle’s truck.
None of those concerns seemed to matter to Officer McGoven.
His gaze was as stormy as the rain clouds swelling overhead. His nostrils flared, and whatever he smelled had him crouching on the balls of his feet, practically lunging away.
“Loren,please,” he choked out the words, fighting to keep his voice steady. For her benefit. He really wanted to bellow. Growl. She could feel the same urge nipping at her thoughts, foreign and overwhelming. “Take. It.Off!”
His anger scared her, but there was a desperate, pleading edge to his tone that had her reaching for the hem of her dress. Modesty didn’t matter in the face of his pain. In jerky, unsteady motions, she wrestled the garment over her head and tossed it aside.
Cheeks flaming, she huddled down, drawing her knees up to her chin, and tried to ignore the fact that she was outside, in the freezing cold, wearing only her bra and underwear. The nakedness exposed her to more than just the frigid temperature. He could see her. All of her.
There was nothing left to hide the scars. Nothing to shield the bruises on her arms and legs. Her father wasn’t the only monster to mark her, and the evidence was painfully fresh. A streaky trail of mud painted her inner thigh, along with tiny scratches left by groping fingers…
He seemed to notice them at the same time she did. The guttural sound that tore from his throat had Loren cringing back so violently she almost fell off the porch.
“Fuck.” With that, he wrenched open the screen door so hard it slammed against the wall. “Get in.”
Loren limped inside, flinching as she passed him. For a rare instant, his eyes weren’t on her, but scanning the horizon of trees along the property. After only a moment, he slammed the front door shut behind them both, leaving her clothes out on the porch.
“The bathroom.” He led the way, unconcerned as she struggled to keep up.
Once there, he herded her inside the narrow room and turned on the shower at full blast. Loren stood by awkwardly as he snatched a towel from a shelf by the door, and fished a bottle of body wash from underneath the sink. He handed her both items and inclined his head toward the rushing water.
