bad, I should find something to say, because he’s been really good to me and though I’ve dialed back my bitch meter towards him, I’m never going to be like the other girls. I don’t have that in me anymore. No one grieves that loss more than I do, but it’s true.
When the vehicle comes to a stop, I jump out, wincing at the pressure it puts on my leg. I ignore it and don’t give Zander time to react. I look through the open window at him.
“Thanks for the ride Zander, stay cool.” I walk off. Dismissed . I must keep him dismissed.
I’m at the front door and have it opened before I realize he is standing behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Hellcat, until we make sure everything is locked down and the danger is gone, you can’t stay by yourself. That leaves two routes this can take. You either come back to the club, or I can stay here. If you’re going to insist on being a stubborn ass, then I’m here.”
“No fucking way.”
“Not open for debate. Now I’d rather be at the club, but baby you want to play it this way, I’m down.”
I shake my head, this is not going to happen. I cannot be anywhere near Zander.
I go inside, ignoring him. He follows, as I knew he would, but I want to change. I want my own damn deodorant, clean clothes not covered in blood and my hair washed in my own shampoo. Once I have all that done and I’m back to myself, I can deal with Zander. Right now, I feel…too raw.
I look over my shoulder, as he follows me.
“Take your damn boots off so you don’t track mud in the house.”
I catch him giving me a mock salute out of the corner of my eye as I leave him behind and go to my bedroom. Once I escape to the adjoining bathroom, I lock the door and relax my weight against it. I’ve held it together, but that’s come to an abrupt end. The shaking starts and the tears slide down my cheeks. I go to the sink and turn the water on. Hoping the noise will drown out my tears.
I’ve fucked up . I’ve fucked up so bad. I want nothing more than to jump in the shower and let the water rinse me clean and hide my weak-ass tears. I can’t do that though, because of my damn leg. So instead, I rip my shirt over my head and push my pants off, cursing Tiny, my stupidity, Michael, and the stupid ridiculous choices my fucked-up brain keeps making. I curse it all . I hobble to the shower and grab my shampoo and conditioner. I bend over the sink and wash my hair continuously until all I can smell is the scent of strawberries. Even when the scent has permeated the air, I wash it one more time. Then I slowly sink to the floor, ignoring the way my hair drips down my back onto my skin.
I don’t know how long I’ve stayed like this. I guess it must have been awhile, because the next thing I know, Zander is wrapping a bathrobe around me and pulling me up. I should be worried that I’m naked. I should be worried that I appear weak and broken. Something about the way he wraps the robe around me and helps me up, feeding my hands and arms through the sleeves, while supporting my weight, tells me I’m safe. Maybe I’m just completely out of it. Could I be in shock? Surely that’s the only thing that could explain why I would ever feel safe with a man.
“I was wondering when you were going to let it out, sweetheart.”
“I’m so stupid,” I whisper, like it’s a dirty secret. It might not be a secret, but I definitely feel dirty. I have for so long, nothing will ever make me feel clean again.
“You’re just searching,” he says applying pressure to my neck so I will hold my head down. Once I do that, he wraps a towel in my hair. Then, he picks me up and carries me out of the bathroom. I should argue, I should insist he put me down. I don’t. I lay my head against his shoulder and rest, as if I’m boneless. When he places me on the bed, I still don’t argue. The time to panic should be when he gets on the bed behind me. I don’t . He spoons me, gathering my body up close and
When the vehicle comes to a stop, I jump out, wincing at the pressure it puts on my leg. I ignore it and don’t give Zander time to react. I look through the open window at him.
“Thanks for the ride Zander, stay cool.” I walk off. Dismissed . I must keep him dismissed.
I’m at the front door and have it opened before I realize he is standing behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Hellcat, until we make sure everything is locked down and the danger is gone, you can’t stay by yourself. That leaves two routes this can take. You either come back to the club, or I can stay here. If you’re going to insist on being a stubborn ass, then I’m here.”
“No fucking way.”
“Not open for debate. Now I’d rather be at the club, but baby you want to play it this way, I’m down.”
I shake my head, this is not going to happen. I cannot be anywhere near Zander.
I go inside, ignoring him. He follows, as I knew he would, but I want to change. I want my own damn deodorant, clean clothes not covered in blood and my hair washed in my own shampoo. Once I have all that done and I’m back to myself, I can deal with Zander. Right now, I feel…too raw.
I look over my shoulder, as he follows me.
“Take your damn boots off so you don’t track mud in the house.”
I catch him giving me a mock salute out of the corner of my eye as I leave him behind and go to my bedroom. Once I escape to the adjoining bathroom, I lock the door and relax my weight against it. I’ve held it together, but that’s come to an abrupt end. The shaking starts and the tears slide down my cheeks. I go to the sink and turn the water on. Hoping the noise will drown out my tears.
I’ve fucked up . I’ve fucked up so bad. I want nothing more than to jump in the shower and let the water rinse me clean and hide my weak-ass tears. I can’t do that though, because of my damn leg. So instead, I rip my shirt over my head and push my pants off, cursing Tiny, my stupidity, Michael, and the stupid ridiculous choices my fucked-up brain keeps making. I curse it all . I hobble to the shower and grab my shampoo and conditioner. I bend over the sink and wash my hair continuously until all I can smell is the scent of strawberries. Even when the scent has permeated the air, I wash it one more time. Then I slowly sink to the floor, ignoring the way my hair drips down my back onto my skin.
I don’t know how long I’ve stayed like this. I guess it must have been awhile, because the next thing I know, Zander is wrapping a bathrobe around me and pulling me up. I should be worried that I’m naked. I should be worried that I appear weak and broken. Something about the way he wraps the robe around me and helps me up, feeding my hands and arms through the sleeves, while supporting my weight, tells me I’m safe. Maybe I’m just completely out of it. Could I be in shock? Surely that’s the only thing that could explain why I would ever feel safe with a man.
“I was wondering when you were going to let it out, sweetheart.”
“I’m so stupid,” I whisper, like it’s a dirty secret. It might not be a secret, but I definitely feel dirty. I have for so long, nothing will ever make me feel clean again.
“You’re just searching,” he says applying pressure to my neck so I will hold my head down. Once I do that, he wraps a towel in my hair. Then, he picks me up and carries me out of the bathroom. I should argue, I should insist he put me down. I don’t. I lay my head against his shoulder and rest, as if I’m boneless. When he places me on the bed, I still don’t argue. The time to panic should be when he gets on the bed behind me. I don’t . He spoons me, gathering my body up close and
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