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They seriously are the sweetest people ever.
“Where do you think you’re taking her?” Rem asks Vance, but it sounds more like an accusation than a question. Worry creases his forehead and I wonder if he thinks Vance is going to hurt me or something.
“Home,” is all Vance says. It’s obvious he doesn’t care to explain himself, and I suppose he shouldn’t have to. He might be a dick, a douchebag even, but he’s not the type to take advantage of a woman.
Turning away from them, he starts to walk again, tucking me in even closer to his side. I feel protected, secure, and for one single moment, I let myself lean into his touch. My nose pressed into his shirt. He smells like soap, and spices like clove and cinnamon.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, pretty boy. She’s not safe with you, need I remind you of your little outburst earlier. I can’t allow you to leave with her and maintain a clear conscience.” At Rem’s words, Vance stiffens, every muscle in his body tightening. He inhales a sharp breath, almost like he’s trying to calm himself.
Shit. This is bad. I brace myself for the fight that I’m certain is to come, only this time it’ll be against Remington and there won’t be anyone to break them up. Wincing, I start to pull away but am surprised when Vance does the polar opposite of what I’m expecting.
He calmly turns, and says, “She’ll always be safe with me. I would never let anything happen to her. I might say mean shit, cut her down, but I wouldn’t ever take advantage of her or lay a hand on her. I’m a fucking man, and men don’t take from women who don’t want it.”
Well fudgesicles, where is this guy all the time?
I’m not sure what I’m more shocked over, the words coming out of Vance’s mouth or that it sounded like he might actually care about me. There’s a strange kind of conviction to his tone that makes it impossible for me to deny that he is speaking the truth.
Hell, I must be drunker than I suspect if I’m thinking that Vance actually cares about me. I’m probably totally misreading the situation. What other explanation could there be for his caring behavior.
“I’ll hold you to that, Van. If I hear that you fucked with her, or hurt her in any way, I’ll rearrange your face with my fists. Got it?” Rem warns. He’s so protective, Jules really is lucky to have him.
“I got it,” Vance growls, turning our backs to them, we start walking away again.
With each step toward the car, my legs get weaker, my knees knocking together. Exhaustion seeps into my pores. Unable to stop myself, I lean into Vance more and more until my head is leaning against his shoulder.
This feels right, perfect even.
When we finally get to the car, he opens the door for me and helps me inside. I’m so tired and woozy that I can barely keep my eyes open. My eyes fall closed, and I tell myself I’m just going to doze off for a few minutes, but the next time I open my eyes, we’re already parked in the driveway at the house.
Vance opens the passenger side door and holds out his hand toward me. I blink, looking up at him wide-eyed. Why is he helping me? He doesn’t care about me, so why?
“What…?” I tilt my head to the side, inspecting him.
“Either take my hand and let me help you or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside. It’s your choice and don’t take long to decide or I’ll choose for you.” His voice is unusually soft, and dare I say calm. It’s so unlike him to be gentle and kind that I’m almost worried this is a dream. A dream I kinda don’t want to wake up from.
“Am I asleep?” I whisper, placing my hand in his. His hand is warm and I shiver at the contact.
Laughing softly, he says, “No, you’re not sleeping. Why would you even ask that?”
He helps me out of the car and onto my wobbly legs before closing the door.
“Because you’re being nice to me and you’re never nice to me. You’d rather stab yourself in the eye with a fork then befriend me. Admit it, you would.”
Quietly, he whispers, “I’m thinking maybe I was wrong about you.”
Wrong about me? Of course he’s wrong about me. He’s been blaming me for some mysterious thing since I got here, cutting me down with his words, and giving me serious whiplash with his hot and cold attitude. He thinks he knows, knows what I went through to get here, but he doesn’t have a clue, so yeah, he’s wrong. Very wrong.
He walks us to the front door and unlocks it without ever letting go of me. I’m a little more awake and a little less drunk now that I’ve had a short nap and some fresh air.
