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“Go home, Trip.”
To my surprise, he stills. We stand there, staring at one another. Time ticks by. Neither of us move. No one speaks. When it gets to be unbearable, I take another step back. Turning with the intention of heading back inside, I freeze when Trip calls out,
“You can’t hide in there forever, dollface. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
Rather than acknowledge the ominous threat, I head back inside.
Thirty-Three
For the next four days, I force myself to stop feeling sorry for myself and focus on getting better. That means getting out of bed and making myself breakfast rather than letting Miguel or Pianna do it for me. It also includes learning how to cover up the split lip and bruising with the limited makeup that I have. Going to work next Monday is going to include a lot of staring if I can’t get the hang of it. Every day when Pianna gets home from work, we hang out, just like old times. We talk, laugh, watch television, and stay up way later than either of us normally would, and it helps keep the thought of Danny or the three young men waiting for me away.
By the time Sunday comes around and my plane lands, I’m feeling a bit better emotionally and physically. I’m not a hundred percent but anything was better than how I felt before. Throwing the small bag of items that Pianna let me borrow over my good shoulder, I head toward the arrival area where a car has been scheduled to pick me up and take me the long drive back to Groveton. The airport isn’t busy, which is nice. Those that got off the plane with me are relatively quiet and in no real hurry as we all make our way out of the building.
Outside, I pause to search the line of cars for the one I ordered.
“Briella!”
I jump at the sound of my name. For a nanosecond, I think it’s Danny and my heart stops. It takes everything in me to turn around and not bolt. When I turn, I find Grant strolling toward me. My breath catches in my throat. A week away seems to have dimmed my memory of the handsome young man because, by god, he looks magnificent. Even with some shadows under his eyes and his hair in disarray, as if he’s been combing his fingers through it incessantly, he looks good.
“Bri,” he stops in front of me. I don’t miss the way his gaze falls on the bruise on my face that I didn’t waste makeup on to conceal for the evening.
“How’d you know where I’d be?” My voice wavers as I speak.
He blinks as if he doesn’t understand the question. “Pianna told me when your flight would land.”
Shock erases all thoughts. It must be written all over my face because understanding flickers across his.
“She didn’t tell you we’ve been in contact.”
I stare up at him, not sure what to say. Why hadn’t Pianna said anything? Why keep this from me? How often did they reach out, and what did Pianna tell them? When I don’t say anything, Grant steps a little closer.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
Before he can grab my bag, I step back out of reach. “I’m not going back to your apartment.”
A muscle ticks in Grant’s jaw. “We’ll discuss it in the car.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I have a car here somewhere but shut it as I study the look on his face. There’s no give anywhere in his expression. Around us, people are filing out of the airport in search of their own transportation. If I make a scene, I’ll bring security and unwanted attention. I definitely don’t want that. Reluctantly, I nod and allow Grant to take my small carry-on bag.
I follow behind him, watching his feet as we walk. With each step, dread grows thicker in my chest. I haven’t had enough time to think things over like Pianna suggested. Annoyance sizzles in my chest. When I get settled this evening, she’s definitely going to get an earful from me. How could she keep this from me? A small sting of betrayal shocks my heart only for it to fade. Pianna always has my best interest at heart. Whatever she has up her sleeve is because she thinks this is what’s best for me. I may disagree, but at least I know her intentions aren’t malicious.
When we get to Grant’s truck, he opens the passenger door and places my bag on the floor of the cab. Turning around, he reaches for me. Unlike the times before, rather than offer me a hand and help me up, Grant takes my hips and lifts me easily up into the seat. The warm blush that crawls up into my cheeks at the brief contact is immediately chased away by pain that radiates from my ribs. I mumble my thanks as he shuts the door. When he comes around to the other side and climbs in, I’m struck with how familiar this feels. A twinge of homesickness fills my heart.
Grant pulls away from the curb and navigates leaving the airport terminals.
Once we hit the highway, the truck engine roars to life, and we take off. I sit there, stiff and full of uncertainty while Grant says nothing. The radio plays softly but the music is ignored. The muted lights in the cab are the only thing keeping it from being pitch black. The sky overhead is clouded, blocking the moonlight and stars. The dark and the small space between us makes me hyper aware of the man beside me.
A silent Grant can’t be a good sign, can it?
Well, I won’t be the one to break the silence. I’m sure Jason shared how I felt about no longer being their doll when he met up with Grant and Trip last week. I’ve said what I needed to say. If Grant wants to talk, he can speak now or forever hold his peace.
Just as I start to drift off, Grant reaches forward and turns the radio off. “How are you feeling?”
As if he really cares. Rolling my eyes, I bring my legs up onto the seat and tuck them beneath me.
“I’m fine.”
Grant hums. Not sure what the sound means, I glance at his face. The lights from the console are dim and cast dark shadows over him. They accentuate the sharp edges of his face. I watch as the muscle in his jaw clenches and relaxes.
