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Every instinct I had roared to life. Lena’s voice was imprinted on my mind. I knew it better than I knew my own, and right now, she was terrified.
“Are you all right?”
She hesitated too long. “Bessie died again.”
I was already moving, grabbing my keys and my coat and heading to the door. “Where are you?”
“Just outside town.”
“But you’re all right? You’re not hurt?”
Again, the pause, and her voice, which sounded far too small. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I ended the call, though I didn’t want to. She was frightened, and the need to protect her at any cost was rising faster than I could control it. The feeling was familiar. Similar to when I’d found her on the verge of overdose and unconscious. I didn’t remember much of that trip to the hospital, but Daniel told me I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.
She had her reasons to be scared. She and Evelyn had been taken from the side of the road. I related. Obviously, I had my own shit that haunted me in the dark. But I was a soldier, and I’d chosen that life. All Lena did was try to be a good friend to anyone and everyone she encountered. She didn’t deserve the fear I heard in her voice.
I saw the lights before anything else. Lena was still sitting inside, which was good. It was cold, and she could keep the doors locked in case anyone else came by. With this gang Noah was dealing with close to home, I didn’t want anyone in our circle taking chances.
Lena was pale when she got out of the car. Pale and stiff. The opposite of the Lena we all knew. I stepped out of the truck and met her halfway. It was an effort not to pull her into my arms right then. That was the only thing that would solve the itch under my skin—the visceral need to make sure she was safe.
I nearly crushed my keys in my hand instead.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” I said, nodding to Bessie behind her. “All locked?”
“Yeah.”
We walked back to my truck, and I opened the door for her to get in before starting it up. She didn’t relax the entire rest of the ride, and she said nothing. For Lena, that was strange, and it spoke to how shaken she was.
Her house, a small two-story that used to be a farmhouse, wasn’t far away, but too far to walk from the car. Out here, she could still see her two nearest neighbors. My house was far more isolated, but I was glad Lena had people close to her. If there was anything wrong and I couldn’t be there, I wanted her to have help.
I stopped the thought from going further. If I couldn’t be there, as if I could be there at all times. I couldn’t. Wasn’t it just this morning I said I needed to let her go?
I’d been to her house a few other times, but only as far as the driveway. Going inside was a recipe for disaster. My self-control was only so strong, and being in her house? Near her bed? It was asking for trouble.
But she looked over at me. “Do you want to come in?”
She was still scared. I saw it in her eyes, as plain as if she’d spoken out loud. There was no way to say no to that look. No matter if I had to let her go, I wanted more color in her cheeks before I left.
“I’d like that.”
I made it around the truck before she stepped down, and her hand was nearly frozen when it touched mine to lean on. Lena had never shown any indication of this before. I knew the signs of trauma better than anyone, and as closely as I watched her, I’d never seen even a hint of this. It had been months.
Had she been hiding this the whole time? Or was there something specific tonight that triggered her?
As we walked toward her house, her shoulders dropped, and her body relaxed. Good. She felt better here.
Sudden nerves sprang up in my gut. I’d never been inside, and it felt…significant. I firmly ignored the small voice in my head telling me this was a bad idea, and I followed her up the porch stairs.
She had a little wind chime near the door that I had to duck to avoid. Each chime had a different weather symbol attached. Clouds, lightning, rain, sun, and wind. It was exactly something I would expect to be in Deja Brew, and it made sense here.
Inside was warm, and Lena was moving fast. More the speed I was used to, taking off her coat and shoes, putting them in a cubby and hanging the coat on a hook. The entryway was a spring green.
If I were honest, I’d always wanted to know what Lena’s house looked like. You could tell a lot about a person by their home, the way they chose to lay things out and to decorate.
