Page 26 of Beautifully Wounded

I shrug, because I can’t find the words he wants to hear, but it doesn’t make him angry.

“The bathroom is clean. I made Brody wash the shower down. How about you use the facilities and then try to get some sleep? You’ve been through a lot tonight. Some rest will help.”

I nod, because sleep does sound good. I’m so damn exhausted, so when Ringo stands and moves back to give me space, I crawl out of the open wardrobe.

For now, I’ll rest, but tomorrow, when I can think straight, I’ll figure out a way to run. Ringo may want me to trust him, but experience tells me that the only person I can rely on is me.

7

The fuck was I thinking bringing her here? Not that I have anywhere else to take her, but maybe I could have reached out to some contacts to take her. The Angel sisters would help. I know that for a fact, but my instructions were clear. Take her and keep her safe. Don’t let anyone else near her.

Fuck.

FUCK!

The moment I saw her painted in her own blood, I knew she’d been through something, and I kinda thought it was all related to her parents and their religious bullshit, but her visceral reaction to seeing Brody and Darla made it clear.

Someone has hurt her sexually. Raped her maybe. Whatever it was, I now feel like a cunt for teasing her and being suggestive with her.

Fuck.

Dragging my hand through my hair, I glance at the old digital clock on the bedside table. It’s just ticked past five in the morning. Abbey has been in the bathroom for over thirty minutes. I’ve tried to be patient and give her the space she needs, but what if… What if she’s trying to hurt herself?

Remembering the way she was willing to stab herself with a shard of glass earlier, I storm to the bathroom and shove the door open, knowing there’s no lock on it. And then I still.

Shit.

Slowly, quietly stepping into the room, I see the blonde of her hair in the bathtub and my heart sinks as I prepare to find her laying in a pool of her own blood.

Only, I don’t.

I blink a few times to make sure my fucking exhausted eyes aren’t fucking with me.

Nope. They aren’t. Abbey has made a bed from the towels in the bottom of the bath, and she’s asleep.

Shit. She obviously didn’t feel safe coming out into the bedroom. Probably thinks I was going to force her to fuck me.

Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not the right guy for this job. I should have said no.

Should I leave her there? It can’t be comfy.

Turning, I storm back into the main room, going to the bed on the side closest to the wall, and pull the covers back. I fluff the pillow a bit and momentarily realise that I’ve never shared this bed with anyone. I usually sleep in the middle, but this side doesn’t normally get used.

Well, it does now.

Moving back into the bathroom, I gently remove the towel she has draped over her as a blanket, and reach down, scooping my hands under her, and lift her in my arms.

A small whimpery moan falls from her lips, even as she curls into my chest, and fuck, for a moment I just stand there in my shitty bathroom staring down at her.

She’s still wearing my hoodie. It’s fucking huge on her, thoroughly engulfing her, and I have to wonder if its size helps her feel safer somehow.

Without the fear etched across her face, she looks so sweet and innocent. How could anyone want to hurt her?

Fuck.

My head is all messed up right now. I need to get this situation with her sorted as quickly as possible and get my head back in the game.

Moving out into the main room, I lower Abbey to my bed, and as soon as she’s on the mattress, she curls on her side, some mumbled incoherent words slipping past her lips before she snores faintly.

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