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“Yeah, I’m fine… Where's Screwy?”
“I’m right here.” Screwy walks through the door right on cue, and when he sees me, his eyes are heavy with concern.
“Screwy’s gonna give me a lift down to the club in the cage. You good to take Lydia home when you're done here?” Brax grabs Grace's jaw in his hand, pulls her in, and leaves a firm kiss on her mouth.
“Sure,” she nods back at him.
“You okay? You don’t look good.” Screwy steps toward me. He’s already got my hand in his, and just as Grace’s about to open her mouth to speak, I ever so slightly shake my head at her.
“I’m just frustrated that I can’t remember anything. We’ve been talking for over an hour, and nothing,” I lie because I don’t want Screwy to get angry again, especially if he needs to focus on something dangerous.
“You sure?” He looks like he’s doubting me. I can tell by the way his forehead crinkles.
“I’m sure.” I do all I can to make it seem that way, and for a second, I worry he’s going to refuse to leave. Eventually, he gives in and nods his head.
“Make sure you use the trail and not the main road,” he tells Grace, and then there’s an awkward couple of seconds where it looks like he might kiss me the same way Brax just kissed Grace.
I wonder if he wants to, as much as I want him to?
“I might be late.” He disappoints me when he starts backing away, and I watch him head out the door.
“You stay at the club tonight. I don’t want to worry about you being up here alone,” Brax tells Grace.
“I’ll stay with Ella, see if she wants some help with the little ones,” she agrees, and Brax gives her his version of a smile before he leaves.
Once we’re alone again, I sigh with relief.
“Is it always like that with them?” I ask Grace, who is right back to looking concerned for me.
“Yeah, but right now, I’m more worried about you.”
“I’m tired. I think I should rest,” I tell her. I don’t want to be rude, but I really don’t want to talk anymore today.
“Sure, let me drive you home,” she grabs her keys.
When we get back to the compound, Grace asks if I want to come to Ella’s with her, but I refuse. My head is still pounding, and I don’t feel much like being sociable.
“I really don’t want to leave you after what just happened,” she tells me as she pulls up outside Screwy’s cabin.
“Trust me, all I’ll be doing is sleeping, and Alex is right next door if I need anything. I would like it if we could talk again tomorrow, though.” As horrible as it’s been, having things coming back to me has to be a positive step forward.
“Of course. I’ll come to you tomorrow around ten, but if you need me before, I’ll only be at Ella’s. She lives up at the lodge.” Grace smiles at me before I stroke Duke a goodbye and hop out of her buggy jeep. Then heading inside, I pray that Screwy won’t be gone too long.
My cabin is dark when I step inside, but I know she’s here. I can just about hear her slow, sleepy breaths coming from the couch, and I can feel her warmth radiating from the usually cool room.
I still haven’t gotten used to sharing my space again, especially with someone like her. Someone who I just can’t escape from. She’s rooted in my head and settled in my gut. These days it feels like every decision I make is with her in mind.
I can’t keep allowing myself to get close, and it ain’t just because of who she is and what she’s been through. It’s because of who I am and the things I’ve done.
Lydia’s seen evil, she’s lived it, and she’s come out of it with her soul still pure. I’ve seen evil, and I lived it too. And now I’ve become it.
She stirs when a floorboard creaks beneath my foot, and I’m torn between wanting her to wake and needing her to stay asleep. If she wakes, I know she’ll smile at me. Those irresistible lips lifting up her cheeks never fail to clench at my insides. But if she stays sleeping, I can watch her for longer. Tease myself with ideas of what it might be like if things were different and I could allow myself to have her.
I go straight to the fridge and pull out a beer, quietly snapping the lid off and making sure to dodge the loose floorboards as I move to sit in the chair opposite her.
She looks so peaceful with her legs curled up on the couch and hands resting beneath her cheek. I don’t recognize the blanket that’s draped over her tiny body and figure one of the girls brought it from their cabins when they came to keep her company. Lydia doesn’t have the stamina for long nights like they do. I guess years of being trapped against your will can do that to a girl.
I reach inside my cut to pull out a smoke, then decide not to light it when I see her chest rise and fall, breathing in the same air as me. The thought of her tiny chest filling with the crap I exhale seems selfish. And so I sit here, long after I finish my beer, after the roar of bikes out outside signals that the other brothers have come home, and I watch. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I sure as hell don’t want to miss it.
