Page 9 of Save Me

The man looks me over, his expression level, before he nods. "Got it, Brant."

I glower at Brantley, my cheeks bright pink with humiliation. "You are a jerk," I hiss.

He smirks at me, completely unaffected by the insult. "Yeah, I am. You ready to leave now?"

I stomp around him, trying desperately to ignore the murmurs of the crowd. It's nearly impossible when I know they're whispering about me, though. I can freaking hear them, wondering who I am and what I'm doing with Brantley Hill.

Plotting ways to murder him painfully, I want to tell them. Instead, I don't say a word. Not even when I hear him chuckle behind me.

Maybe I don't want to work with him, after all. He's insufferable. Irritating.

Delicious, a little voice whispers.So damn delicious.

It isn't wrong, dammit all.

We're barely in his ridiculously oversized truck when his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at it, and then curses softly.

"I need to take this," he says, almost like he's apologizing to me.

I wave him off, staring out into the night. Still annoyed.

"Hey, Ma," he says a second later, his voice soft.

I peek over at him, surprised. He had to answer a call from his mom? That's…cute. Unexpected. He doesn't really strike me as a mama's boy. Honestly, he kind of seems like a man apart, someone who doesn't let anyone too close. He holds the whole world on his shoulders.

I think maybe he's stumbling under its weight.

"Hey, you don't need to do that," he says. "I'll take care of it. Just leave them all there, and I'll grab them in the morning." He listens to her for a moment and then shakes his head. "Ma, just leave them."

She says something else, her muffled voice floating down the line.

Whatever she says makes him grin, though. "What do you take me for, Ma? I know you. You're probably still fucking with them right now." His gaze flits toward her and then away. "Yeah, I'll swing by in the morning. I've got some shit to handle tonight."

Oh, he will not be handling me.

I narrow my eyes on him, which only makes that sexy smirk of his grow.

He chuckles. "Love you too, Ma. See you in the morning." He doesn't stop staring as he disconnects and drops the phone back into the console. "Sorry. I don't like to keep her waiting for shit since…"

My heart pulses. "How's she doing?"

"Fine," he grunts, glancing away to start the truck. But not before I see the guilt and pain in his eyes. It makes my heart ache. "Better now."

"You're really sweet with her," I murmur, trying to soothe him in some way. I can't imagine what he's going through is easy. And the whole freaking city keeps blaming him.

"I'm sure you're the same way with your mom, little bird."

"Definitely with my stepmom. I've always kind of idolized her. But I don't know my biological mom well." I lean my head against the window as he backs out of the parking spot.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Um, she went to prison for trying to frame my dad for fraud and embezzlement when Bella and I were little. But before that, she wasn't a great mom. She resented that she had us, I guess. Or resented that my dad loved us more than her. She neglected us. Treated us badly."

I'm not really sure why I tell him when I've never willingly opened up to anyone about her. It's always been something Bella and I very adamantly refused to discuss with people—mostly because they treated us like we were salacious gossip instead of real people with real feelings. I guess maybe I tell him becauseheknows what it's like to be gossip, and I want him to know that my life isn't perfect either. It's never really been that. My dad and Jenna made it amazing despite our mother, but it was never perfect.

"Maybe we do have something in common after all, little bird," Brantley mutters into the silence, his voice tight. "Knowing some parents don't deserve the title is a fucked-up kind of pain to live with, isn't it?"

I glance over at him, my mouth open to ask what he means, but the expression on his face silences the question. It speaks for itself. He isn't talking about his mom. He's talking about his dad.

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