Page 16 of Halfway to Hell
“Is Jessikah around?” Texas asked. Lynx had recently gotten himself an Ol’Lady, and Texas hoped she’d be around to help Sunday feel safer here at the clubhouse.
Lynx eyed Texas, curious why he wanted to know if his Ol ’Lady was around. Then his gaze shifted back to Sunday. “I can ask her to stop by,” he offered.
Texas placed a hand gently on Sunday’s back. “Let me check what time I’ve got to run my errands first.”
“Sounds good,” Lynx said with a nod.
When they stepped into the room, Texas felt Sunday’s relief wash over her as she spotted the two single beds pushed against opposite walls. Dropping their bags onto one of the beds, Texas gave a nod of thanks to Lynx as the brother closed the door behind them.
There was something on Texas’s mind—an unspoken question burning under the surface. He pointed to Sunday’s backpack. “Where’d you get all this stuff? And the clothes you’re wearing?”
Texas wasn’t one to pry, but Monday had told him Sunday was found naked, covered in dirt, and confused. So, where the hell had Sunday gotten the clothes and that backpack? If she was lying and this was just a wild goose chase to catch a free ride back to Montreal, Texas would be pissed.
Sunday sank onto the bed, exhausted. Monday would murder her if she found out—maybe Texas wouldn’t.
“I went back to Dalton’s while he was at work,” she said quietly, “and grabbed this stuff out of the garage where he’d thrown it.”
Texas dropped his chin, shadowing his face as he stared at her. Was she out of her fucking mind? “Were you temporarily insane?”
“Yes,” she said simply, easier than admitting she knew exactly what she’d been doing.
“Why risk your life for some clothes?”
“He took everything from me. I wanted?—”
“Clothes?” Texas interrupted, incredulous.
“No. Yes. No.” Sunday got up and paced the small room, searching for words to explain her reckless choice. None of her reasons sounded rational—not even to herself. She shrugged, struggling to make sense of it all.
“I wanted my toothbrush, my hundred dollars, my Swiss cake from the garage.”
Texas just stared, stunned. Nothing she said added up. Why did it matter so much?
Because Monday had been worried sick over her sister, and Sunday had thrown caution to the wind—risking her life—for a toothbrush and a Swiss cake.
Texas was about to start bitching when he caught sight of Sunday shaking uncontrollably. Her brain was finally catching up with everything that had happened—what she’d been through and what she’d done over the past two days.
She stopped pacing, and without thinking, Texas wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight until the shaking slowed.
When it finally stopped, the crying began.
It had been years since he’d held a woman like this—broken and raw—and the unfamiliar weight of it settled over him in a strange, quiet way.
“How long will we be here?”
“I need to get some sleep. You need to get some sleep,” Texas said, running a hand gently over her narrow back. He could feel how thin Sunday was. She didn’t look like the girl in the picture Monday had sent—her eyes were duller, her hair lacked its usual luster, and she was definitely thinner.
“I’ve got some things to take care of here before we head to Montreal.”
“Okay.”
Texas let Sunday step out of his arms and immediately hated how empty they felt. “I need a shower. You good here for a few minutes?”
“If you say I’m safe, I am.”
“You’re safe.”
“I won’t go anywhere.”
