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Lori scrunches her face with disgust, easing the pain in my gut. “Never going to happen, junior.”
Levi shrugs and turns his attention back to me. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”
Lori barks out a laugh, slapping the edge of the bar. “You’re asking the wrong guy,” she says. “Boy scout here would never take a drunk woman home from a bar and screw her, would you?”
My eyes meet hers, though I don’t bother to respond to her comment. She looks rather pleased with herself as she picks up her glass from the bar and takes another sip.
“Wait,” Levi says, bringing my attention back to him. “You’re the boy scout?”
I shrug. “I suppose I am. Why? Did she mention me?”
Levi’s eyes slide over to Lori, who doesn’t seem to be paying either of us any attention as she finishes the amber liquor in her glass. When his gaze is on me again, his eyebrows lift, his lips quirking into a crooked smile.
“She may have said something.”
“Like what?”
Smirking, he shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s confidential. Besides, we never got the answer to our original question. What are you doing here?”
“Yeah,” Lori says, setting her empty glass on the bar as she comes to her feet. “Why are you here? Where the hell is Cat?” She staggers as she tries to gesture with her hands, reaching out for me to steady herself.
My lips curl into a smile on their own accord, a warmth of satisfaction spreading through me. “I volunteered to come in her place.”
“Of course, you did,” she says. “Officer Perfect to save the day.”
“Hold on.” We both turn our attention to Levi, who’s regarding us with a furrowed brow. “How do you know her friend?”
“We’re dating.” Lori’s body stiffens next to me as I answer.
When I turn to look at her, she quickly removes her hands from me as if only realizing they’d been there.
“Interesting,” Levi scoffs.
The color on her cheeks deepens as she straightens her clothing, her eyes avoiding both of us. “I’m ready to go.”
Lori remains silent and withdrawn once we’re inside my truck, her eyes vacantly looking out the passenger side window as I start it up.
“I’ll need directions to your house.” When she doesn’t respond, I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I can’t,” she says, her words so weak, they’re nothing more than a whisper. She shakes her head, her shoulders lifting as she sucks in a deep, ragged breath. “I don’t want to go home. I can’t bear going back to that empty house. Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”
“Of course.” I squeeze her shoulder, caressing it with my thumb. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”
Shying away from my touch, she shakes her head, resting it on the seat. I know pushing her to talk to me wouldn’t do any good, so I don’t say another word before shifting the truck into drive.
As a little boy, whenever I was feeling sad about my parents, my grandmother would sing “Smile” by Nat King Cole to me. To this day, hearing that song brings me peace. So, as Lori begins to quietly whimper during our drive, I find myself softly singing it to her.
13
Lori
Someone walks into the room behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. I can feel his eyes on my body, smell his intentions. His footsteps echo around me, each one he takes increasing the pressure I feel on my chest, slowly stealing my breath.
He steps up behind me, and my body locks up with fear. I’m terrified of what’s coming—of what he’ll do, of someone seeing, of the way it will make me feel.
His hands land on my waist, his body pressing into mine. Another small piece of me shrivels up, his touch slowly killing me.
Then I hear it, a smooth voice singing softly.
