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Running my hands down my face, I drop my hands on the arm rests and stand up. “Yeah man, I can do that.”
I shake his hand before turning to scoop Spencer up in my arms. She barely stirs as I pull her against my chest, holding her close. She’s tinier than the last time I saw her. Sad. Breakable. And all I want to do is save her, but how do you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?
Kicking her door shut behind us, I carry Spencer up the steps to her bedroom in the dark. I’m thankful she still had her purse on her or I would have had to break in tonight. If I had it my way, I would have taken her back to my house, and never let her leave, but it’ll just push her further away.
Something tells me Spencer hasn’t had control of anything for a really long fucking time, and I’m not going to be someone else who strips her of her dignity and choices. I mean, I will one day, in a sense, but not like that.
Sighing, I lay her down on her bed and look down at her. Her black plaid mini skirt barely covers her ass, and her black, v-neck shirt is riding up at the bottom, revealing bruising on her side.
Did that asshole tonight do that?
Sitting down on the bed beside her, I lift the hem of her shirt just slightly, and she stirs a little, groaning in response.
No, this isn't from tonight. These bruises look like they’ve hit their peak and are beginning to heal.
“Spencer, what’s going on with you?” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
A slight whimper falls from her lips, and I slide further down the bed toward her feet. One foot at a time, I remove her boots and lay her legs gently back down on the mattress. Pushing up to stand, I walk over to the bureau and start sifting through her drawers. She smells like a brewery, and her clothes are damp, I assume liquor was spilled on her during the altercation, and I refuse to leave her like this.
I find an oversized t-shirt, and pull it out, closing the drawer as I walk back to the bed. Bending down, I grip the hem of her tiny t-shirt and slowly pull it up over her head, careful not to let her head bobble too much as I slide it off. She’s so fucking beautiful in this tragically broken way. More than a decade of life away from me, and I have no idea what she’s been through, no idea what she’s running from, and my heart seizes in my chest when I think of the possibilities.
I slide the clean t-shirt over her head and work her arms into the sleeves, lowering it down over her body as I gently move her side to side before pulling her skirt off, throwing her soiled clothing into the laundry basket in the corner.
Turning my back, I leave her room and jog down the steps to her kitchen. I sift through her refrigerator and grab a bottle of water from the back, before turning and heading back up the stairs. When I get back to the room, I bypass the bed and head into the bathroom. After a couple minutes of searching, I find a bottle of ibuprofen and grab it.
Making my way back to her, I set the bottles down on her nightstand and sit back on the edge of her mattress.
Do I leave? I can’t leave her like this.
I don’t even want to know where that shithead fiancé of hers is, not that I’d want to leave her with him either. I’d kill him if I had to look at his fucking face anyway right now.
Running my fingers through her hair, I don’t miss the discoloration or small laceration below one of her eyes. I want to crack my chest open and pull her inside of me. I want to engulf her entirely, making her a permanent fixture inside of my soul where she can never leave me and nothing else can ever touch her.
Pulling back her blankets, I pull them up and over her small frame. Without stopping to think, I lean forward and press my lips to her cheek and she sighs, the weight of her shoulders collapsing to the mattress.
I begin to push up, preparing to leave now that I know she’s safe, but her small voice calls out to me.
“Travis.”
“Spence?” I lower myself back down, getting close enough to make sure I hear her whispers.
“Please stay.”
I can’t tell her no, I’ve never been able to deny her. So I slide into the bed beside her and wrap one arm around her waist. As I lay my head on her pillow, she shifts closer to me, and I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her. Beneath the beer and liquor, she still smells like cotton candy.
I’ll stay.
But I’ll be gone before she wakes.
If I have to see her bright eyes when I wake up, it’ll be the death of me. Because part of me knows deep down, she still doesn’t choose me.
Chapter nineteen
Aria
I should have called out of work. I can feel Cole glaring at me, his eyes burning through layers of my skin. I did the best I could tonight, but my left eye is black and blue, and the laceration below my right eye is beginning to scab, so it was difficult to cover up. My head still hurts and my back aches, but it was call out and sit in the house sulking in my misery, or come to the bar and face the knowing stares.
Then something happened last night, and I don’t know what. Maybe I drank too much? The last thing I remember was dancing at The Underground, and then I woke up alone in my bed this morning wearing a baggy t-shirt, and water and ibuprofen were already waiting on my nightstand for me.
