Page 29 of Keep Me Safe

The drive back feels like it takes an eternity. My fingers tighten on the wheel, the silence in the truck amplifying my thoughts. When I finally turn onto our road, I see her white Pontiac Grand Am parked in its usual spot.

Relief floods through me. I exhale sharply, slamming the truck into park and jumping out. My feet hit the ground, and I move quickly toward the front porch.

“Is your phone broken?” I ask, throwing the door open. She’s there, sitting on the couch in the living room. Relief washes over me. She’s here. She’s safe. That relief, however, quickly turns into irritation when I remember that I’ve been looking for her for over an hour, and she hasn’t responded to any of my texts or calls.

“Um, no?” she responds, raising an eyebrow. She looks upset, a frown playing on her face. I hesitate for a moment but choose to ignore it, pressing on.

“I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer. Where were you?” I question, moving toward the couch. She stands to face me, tilting her head to look at me. I stop feet away from her, her face hardening.

“You’re not my dad. I am an adult, and I don’t have to tell you where I am at all times,” she retorts, with a clear attitude in her tone.

“Trust me, I am well aware that I am not your father, but you do live under my roof, and that means I deserve to know when and if you’re coming home.”

Staring up at me, her hands on her curved hips, she laughs, “You’re kidding, right?”

She can be a real brat when she wants to be. She’s always been like that. She won’t take anyone’s bullshit. But this isn’t bullshit. This is valid. She needs to tell me if she isn’t coming home.

“Something could have happened to you. All you had to do was text me.”

“I’m sorry,Daddy, I’ll be sure to tell you next time,” she mocks. My eyes widen, heat rising in my chest. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I had to stay late at work. I didn’t even see that you called.” I must have just missed her when I drove to the store. I feel like an idiot. She tries to turn away, but I grab her by her wrist. She twists back to look at me, anger in her features.

“Don’t call me that,” I say, my voice low.

Her eyes are dark as they bore into mine. This is about more than just this argument. She’s mad about something else. Defeated, I let go of her.

“Just go to your room.”

“Gladly,” she says, stomping up the stairs. I can’t help but appreciate the curve of her ass as she disappears up them. She’s hot when she’s angry.

No, she’s not.

Pulling my eyes away, I sink onto the couch.

What am I doing?

chapter nine

kira

I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s been a few days since Noah and I were in the kitchen. When he touched me, I could have sworn there was something there. But of course, there wasn’t. There can’t be. I know that. The way he just left me standing there still makes me feel like an idiot. Why did I even touch him like that? I know why: he was shirtless, warm, and pressed so close to me. For the first time since that night when I was fifteen, having a man that close didn’t scare me.

That’s one thing I love about Noah—he could never scare me. He can definitely piss me off, though, and that’s what happened tonight. Rob asked if I could work later because someone else called in sick. I wasn’t going to turn that down—I need the extra hours. Should I have told Noah? Probably, but it doesn’t justify him throwing a fit like that. He’s not my dad. He doesn’t need to know everything I do. I don’t like it when he treats me like a kid. I’m almost nineteen, and I’ve been caring for myself for years now.

He was genuinely upset, though. When he walked through the door, I saw that flash of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by irritation. He was worried about me.

I push the guilt aside and focus on the view outside my window. The sun sets over the lake, painting the sky with pinks, oranges, and purples, reflecting off the still water.

I wish I could stay here forever. I love this house—there are so many memories here. It’s the one place I ever felt truly wanted as a kid. Noah being upset with me is his way of showing hecares about me, and I get that. But he could’ve gone about it in a kinder way.

The next morning, my alarm yanks me out of a deep sleep. I really don’t want to go to work today. Still half asleep, I pick out a comfy outfit and shuffle toward the bathroom. But as soon as I reach for the door, it turns by itself, swinging open to reveal a wall of man in a towel.

I take my time sliding my gaze up to Noah’s. His towel hangs low on his hips, his body still damp from the shower.

What I wouldn’t give to run my hands over those tattoos again.

“Excuse me, princess,” he says as he steps past me. It takes me a moment, but I finally head into the bathroom for my own shower, trying to remind myself that I’m mad at him.

I’m opening today, so it’s only me until ten when Lexi comes in. She’s been working here for about two weeks and seems to be doing well. She’s a little older than me, probably twenty or twenty-one, and I like her.

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