Page 10 of Save Me

"Everyone thinks they know my father," he says quietly. "They have no fucking clue what kind of bastard he really was."

Oh, my god.

"Brantley." I swallow hard. "Did he…?"

He meets my gaze, not speaking. But he doesn't have to say a word. The truth is written on his face in stark lines. His dad hurt him. Badly. And judging by the haunted look in his eyes…he's still fighting the pain. He's been fighting it for a long time.

Defiance wells up from my soul, screaming in silent protest.

I reach across the console without a word, slipping my hand into his.

He glances down at our joined hands and then over at me and swallows hard, his fingers closing around mine. He doesn't say a single word. He just clings to my fingers like I'm a lifeline.

I cling just as tightly, my heart aching for him. Questions bubble on my tongue, but I swallow them back, refusing to ask. He doesn't owe me those answers, and I won't ask for them. But I want to help, even if it's just a little bit.

"I'm sorry he hurt you," I whisper when he pulls up in front of my apartment ten minutes later. "No matter what that little voice of doubt says, you deserved better."

"Jesus," he rasps.

"Thanks for the ride, Brantley."

I'm halfway up the sidewalk before I feel him touch my elbow. He spins me to face him, breathing hard.

"What–?"

His lips crash down on mine, his hand fisting in my hair. I gasp against his lips as he pulls me up against his body, holding me dangerously close for one perfect moment as his lips move against mine.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"For what?"

"For being you, little bird." He brushes his lips against mine again, sighing softly. "For being you."

My heart flutters as he pulls back, his gaze tangling with mine. And I realize I don't want him to leave yet. Even if he doesn't agree to help me…I think I want to know this man. I want to helphim.

"Will you come inside?" I blurt.

He stares at me for a long, silent moment, a war raging in his eyes. "I shouldn't."

"Okay," I whisper, glancing down at the ground. Rejection stings. I don't like it much.

His thumb slides along my bottom lip. "I said I shouldn't, Isla. Not that I'm not going to."

My gaze bounces back to his, my eyes wide.

He groans softly, shaking his head. "Let's go before I remember why I shouldn't."

Chapter Three

Brantley

Stepping inside Isla's tiny off-campus apartment is like taking a peek inside her mind. Family photos line the walls. Keepsakes—the things that matter the most to her—are carefully displayed on shelves between plants and pretty flowers. Stacks of books march across bookcases in orderly rows, arranged by height and color. Bright rugs line the floor, with equally as colorful throw pillows spilling life and light into the cozy space.

"It's not much," she mumbles, fidgeting at my side. "I stay with my parents most nights. But when I have class, it's just easier to stay close to campus."

I cut my eyes in her direction, shaking my head. "My place is a barren wasteland compared to this, little bird. It's perfect."

That fucking smile. Jesus. It's psychotic how much I want to taste it right now.

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