Page 20 of Diesel
“Define better.”
“You were tired.”
Her face softens for just a second before the shutters come down again. “I still am.”
Because of me. She doesn’t say. She doesn’t have to. That barbed coil in my chest tightens and before I can stop myself, I lift her hand. I press two soft kisses to the inside of wrist, reverent, like I can soothe the pain between us with my mouth.
Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip, like she’s trying to hold back a tidal wave of emotion with just willpower. “I need to use the bathroom,” she repeats, and I withdraw my hold on her until her warmth is gone.
Slowly, she stands, and I track her as she heads out of the room. I hear the bathroom door click closed and the lock slide into place.
I rest my elbows on my knees, letting my head hang low. The weight of everything crushes my shoulders. She’s not screaming at me, which seems like a positive in a sea of negative. I try not to let hope blossom too fully in my chest as I grab my boots and slide my feet into them. I take my time to lace them. Start on the left. Always the left first. Through one hook, then the next. Cross. Tighten. Loop. Repeat. Then I do the same with the other boot. There’ssomething about the structure of lacing that calms the uncertainty inside me, even as my gaze gravitates to the door, listening.
I don’t think Makenna would climb out of the window, even though she’s done it before.
We were fifteen, maybe a little older. Those years blur together in a wash of trauma and fear.
I can remember the house even all these years later. Red bricks, purple flowers growing up the side of the front door. Pretty, but it couldn’t soften the nightmare contained behind the walls.
I move around the edge of the house, heart in my throat, hands shaking. It’s been three days since I last saw her. Her foster father told me to stay the hell away, that she didn’t need to be corrupted by a piece of shit like me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a piece of shit. But I’ll never be like him.
The house is dark as I creep closer, keeping to the shadows as much as I can. The last thing I need is for some nosy fucking neighbour to call the police. If I get arrested… No, that’s not an option.
I reach the back door, mentally calculating how to get inside without being heard or damaging anything. The last thing I need is to alert fucking Kevin that I’m here.
Just as I’m about to slide my lockpick kit out of my pocket, movement catches my attention from above me.
I freeze. Every bone in my body turns to liquid. There are feet dangling out of the window above me. I blink, my chest seizing.
Holy fucking shit.
My heart leaps violently against my rib cage as I watch her slide out of it. There’s no way in hell I can catch her ifshe falls, but I hold my arms out as if I can. Makenna glances down and fumbles for purchase.
Then she sees me. It’s as if the world holds its breath, and then she’s moving again.
I barely breathe as she shimmies down the drainpipe like a fucking spider monkey and I don’t drag in air until my hands can reach her hips. The moment I guide her onto the ground, she turns, tears shimmering in her eyes.
There’s a split bisecting her lip, angry and raw, and a bruise spanning her left cheek, visible even in the shadows. I reach toward her face, my fingers hovering before I drop my hand.
“You came for me,” she whispers.
Her arms wrap around me and I expect to freeze. I don’t. Her touch isn’t pain to me. It’s warm and it’s inviting. It feels like safety, security and home all rolled into one. I bury my face in her neck, just breathing her in like she’s the only thing I need. Fuck.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
A light flicks on upstairs, then another. He’s awake.
I grab her hand, hating how clammy she feels. How scared she is. But somehow, she still finds the strength to flash me a wobbly grin before we run.
That has me surging off the bed and rushing to the bathroom. Makenna may not be as spry as she was back then, but she’s tenacious when her back is to the wall.
I’m about to hammer on the door, when it swings open and she blinks at me, clearly not expecting my bulky frame to be blocking her path.
“You don’t need to sit outside the room like some sort of guard dog. I’m perfectly capable of pissing alone.”
She steps around me, and I peer into the bathroom. Thesmall window is cracked open, like she thought about climbing out of it.
“You thought I was going out of the window?”
