“Nice car,” he tells me casually as I turn onto the highway.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks. I wanted a convertible, but my father thought that was too tacky.”
“A Jaguar XJ isn’t anything to sneeze at,” he answers. “Although they’re mechanical pieces of shit.”
I snort back laughter. “Tell that to my father. He gave it to me as a graduation gift. I know, it’s a grandma car.”
“It is a little….geriatric,” Brand grins. “But it’s still nice.”
It’s the absolute story of my life. I want something, my father wants something else, and guess who wins that battle?
“Turn here,” Brand tells me after a few minutes. Honeysuckle Drive.
“What a charming name,” I muse aloud.
The road is just as charming as the name implies. Lined with shady trees, I idle down the quiet lane to the very end, to a little cottage perched on the lake. Cute and quaint, it’s got vines growing up the side, a porch with two rocking chairs, and pots of flowers out front.
“This is a adorable,” I observe before I get out and pull the wheelchair from the trunk.
I unfold it and push it over to the passenger side, but Brand scowls at it. “I’m not using that thing.”
I scowl back. “Well, you certainly can’t bear weight, and we don’t have your crutches yet. So get into it, Killien.”
Brand’s head snaps up in surprise, then he bursts out laughing.
“A bit bossy, aren’t you?” His eyes sparkle and it takes my breath away. “It’s a good thing bossy looks good on you.”
I smirk and hold the chair and Brand twists himself from the car and drops into it, all without managing to put weight on his leg. It’s not without effort and I can see his face is a bit pale.
“We’ll get you some pain pills in the house,” I tell him. “The nurse said you could have one soon.”
I wheel him to the door.
“The key is on top of the sill,” he tells me. “Can you reach it?”
Barely.
But I manage, by stretching up on the very tip of my toes. When I turn back around, Brand is watching me, and heat floods my cheeks. His gaze had been fixed on my ass, on the way my shirt had pulled up as I stretched.
I want him to watch me, to see me, yet when he does, I get as flustered as the thirteen-year old I used to be. Gah.
I unlock the door and him inside.
The inside of the cottage is as cute as the outside, but it does have a pent-up musty smell and it’s stifling hot.
“I’m going to open the windows,” I tell Brand. “We need some air flowing. And I’ll change the sheets on the bed for you. I’m guessing this cottage hasn’t been opened up for the season.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Brand agrees.
I push him over to the windows where he can look out over the lake while I wander about, opening windows, opening all the faucets to get fresh water flowing, and hunting for linens.
As I do, my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out, staring at the screen, expecting to see my father or my mom, or even Nate.
But I don’t.
My heart leaps into my throat, locking it up, when I see the name. I’m frozen for a minute, paralyzed. You’re an idiot. It’s just a freaking phone call. He can’t hurt you here.
I will myself to move, and I’m finally able to shove the phone back into my pocket without answering it. But I feel it there, like a blazing piece of charcoal, taunting me.
I blink hard.
“You can answer that,” Brand tells me, staring at me curiously. “I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “It’s no one important.”
Only the devil himself.
Brand still stares at me. “Are you all right?”
No.
I’m not ok, because the devil himself can find me wherever I am.
I’m not safe.
I’m not safe.
But I’m safe with Brand…because he stands on a wall to protect what is his.
I rotate in a circle, taking the cottage in. Everything is on one floor here, so it’ll be easier for Brand to get around. But he really shouldn’t be alone. He can’t even drive yet.