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I could no more look away from Savanah than I could from my family.
Pausing against a tree, I took the call. I’d given myself plenty of time to navigate the terrain, having already pinpointed a good vantage site behind a large elm, a few steps outside of the wood.
“Hey,” I said.
“I just wanted to speak to you again. I’m in London.”
“With that dickhead?”
“Yep.” She sighed. “I told him about Paris and that it was a family affair. He insists on coming. I just don’t know what to do. I hate him.”
“Savanah, I can’t help you if you don’t let me know what he’s got over you.”
“It’s a sex tape.” Her voice cracked.
“Oh, is that all? I’ve had a few of those in my time. They’re kinda cute.”
“This is not one of those, trust me.” Her words slurred.
“Have you been drinking?”
“I’m drunk. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have told you about that fucking horrid tape.”
Gripped by sudden frustration, I feared for her in that state. She was ripe for abuse.
A memory of her wounded on the pavement flashed before me, making my temperature rise. “Are you home, at least?”
“I am. He’s gone off to score a deal. I hate him.” She sobbed.
I took a deep, steadying breath. Protective instincts had me itching to see her.
“I miss you.” She sounded like a fragile child. All I wanted to do was rock her in my arms and stroke her silky hair. Not sexually, but as a loving friend.
Did I love her? It was way too soon for that. But I couldn’t get her out of my mind or even my heart.
Savanah made me feel needed. I liked that feeling. Too much for my own good, it seemed.
“But you’ll be sleeping with him, won’t you?”
“He’s always too out of it for sex. That’s one small blessing. I can’t stand him anywhere close.” Her tortured giggle made my body tense. “He probably won’t even come home till morning. He likes to knock around with his druggie friends. We’re only together as a show, you realise.”
“He sounds fucking awful.”
“He is. You’ve got to save me.”
“Look, Savanah, I’m working right now. I’ll see you on Saturday. We’ll talk about this sex tape and how to get you out of this predicament. And please, do me a favour: try to stay lucid. Drinking won’t help.”
“I will. And Carson…”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
She cut out, and my heart raced. I felt dizzy.
Those words terrified me yet injected some kind of emotional steroid through me, filling my veins with energy of the kind I hadn’t exactly felt before.
Did I love her?
