Page 34 of The Bones We Break
Ana’s perfect lips tip up in one corner as she relaxes into the couch before wrapping her hands back around the mug. Stepping back, I put some much needed distance between us, the tension radiating throughout the space like a live wire. I walk by the front desk, plucking two black rubber gloves from out of the box on the counter on my way before pulling them onto my hands, the elastic stretching over each knuckle and vein that laces my hands.
Ana’s gaze practically burns all over my heated skin as I beginto finalise the details on the Mustang and if I’m being honest, I don’t hate it.
The guilt that is running through my body is sickening, it’s crawling over my skin like a million fire ants. I’m disgusted at my body for the way it’s reacting to Dean. The feelings he awakens in me. I’m probably just feeling very vulnerable at the moment and my mind is wanting to seek comfort from someone who isn’t my abusive husband. That’s what’s happening and when Dean shows his true colours, like all men do, I’ll be back to feeling empty and alone, but something inside of me isn’t fully believing the statement I’m trying to convince myself with. I should be running for the hills, terrified. I am terrified because I can’t trust anyone around me and the thought of Dean finding out who I am and how I’ve ended up here has me building my walls even higher than before. I need to keep him at arm’s length, get my car fixed and leave, to where I’m not sure.
I allow myself another peek at the mountain of a man who’s currently wiping a cloth over the cherry red car, the way he doesn’t miss an inch of the car has me in a trance. I can tell he takes pride in his work, not allowing a single detail to go unnoticed. The black strands of his wavy hair peek out from beneath his cap, the back of it resting on his tanned forehead. His dark, firm brows crease every time he focuses on something, the fine lines gathering across his skin. He’s definitely olderthan me and again, I mentally scold myself for taking in the details of him.
Dropping my eyes, I try to distract myself with Lyla, her head still resting in my lap. Her soft, slow breathing is calming to my anxiety. Softly, my hand runs from between her ears to her chest to feel the rapid beats under my palm. She huffs out of her small noise, what I assume is a sigh of content and I instantly smile, knowing that she feels safe around me, and I her.
There’s a calm silence in the garage, the only noise coming from Lyla’s soft snores and Dean finishing up on the Mustang until the door of the garage opens, a cool breeze whooshes in that has Lyla lifting her head. Lifting my head, I follow her line of sight when a man saunters in, his arms swinging confidently at his side. I immediately sense a threatening feeling around him that leaves me on edge. Lyla must pick up on the same feeling as she lets out a low growl towards the mystery man, the hair on her spine sticking up on alert.
The man comes to stand at the front of the reception desk and Lyla’s deathly glare never leaves him, constantly tracking his movements. Instantly, I drop my gaze and dip my head to make myself smaller, away from his wandering gaze, and to hide my identity on the off chance that he’s maybe seen my face on the news. I let my hair fan over my face and peer through a small gap in the strands.
The man isn’t tall, not Dean tall anyway. He’s wearing a cheap leather jacket, the black fabric cracking and splitting in places and a cream shirt tucked into black trousers, the top two buttons are left open, pitch black curly chest hair poking out, looking like they’re trying to make an escape. An overwhelming musty smell hits my nose, and I grimace.
“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you sweetheart.” Thedisgusting pet name instantly triggers something in me and I begin to breathe heavily, a thick fog taking over my vision, and I feel like my entire world is closing in on me. How could one simple word send me into a tailspin like this?
I don’t notice the creepy man’s hand coming into view until he tucks my hair behind my ear and I instantly recoil at his unwanted touch. Flinching backwards, Lyla snaps her sharp canines at his hand and he rips his disgusting fingers back, forcing them into a fist.
“You fuckin mu-” He begins to spit out at Lyla.
“What was that you were going to say, Greg?” Dean’s deep baritone takes over the situation, his forest green eyes darken as he stares at Greg as he begins to slide the black latex gloves off his hands, the intricate tattoos coming into view.
“No.. Nothing man! I was just complimenting this pretty thing you’ve got in here, can’t a man appreciate a fine ass woman?” His words slice through me like glass and a sour bile begins to rise in my throat.
“No, Greg. You don’tgetto appreciate her, not the way you’re wanting to appreciate her anyway. And whilst you’re at it, keep your fucking slimy hands off of her.” Dean’s voice is sharp as it cuts through Greg and he begins to cower under Dean’s hard stare, a nervousness taking over him, his dull eyes darting around the room trying to avoid the deep green gaze that’s currently penetrating him.
“Look, it wasn’t like that alright? I mean if she ain’t yours, it’s free game ri-”
“Get the fuck out.” Dean bites out and my eyes shoot open. I stay silent as I watch the situation unfold in front of me. Dean’s jaw ticks as he stares down onto Greg.
“Take your disgusting fucking hands, and you’re car and get the fuck out of my garage.” He threatens. Surely Greg wouldn’t be stupid enough to bite back after just being told to leave, but I’m proven wrong.
“You can’t be for real right now? She’s just a chick and I need my car fixed!” Lyla looks back over to her dad, then back at Greg, her razor blade teeth on show.
“See that’s where you’re wrong, Greg. I am being for real. I couldn’t give a shit about your car, but what I do give a shit about is you making thischickfeel uncomfortable in my presence. Now, you can either leave willingly or Lyla will be the one to escort you, and let me tell you, she takes no prisoners.” Dean’s breath is heavy and low. “Also, thatchick’sname is Ana. Put some fucking respect on it.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw has hit the solid floor below me. I can’t believe he’s just said all of that to a customer too. What is happening right now?
I feel Dean’s gaze rake over me and my skin instantly sets ablaze under his stare, his face stoic and emotionless as he waits for Greg to make the right decision. The silence between us seems to last a lifetime but Greg soon pipes up, his chest puffing out.
“Fuck you man.” He mumbles and he strides back out of the garage, not looking so confident as he did when he came in. Lyla instantly backs down from her protective stance and begins to leave wet kisses on the side of my face.
“Thank you, baby. I’m okay.” I say, reassuring her with soft scratches in between her ears which I’ve come to find out is her favourite spot. Looking up I hear Dean let out a heavy breath, his head low.
“I’m sorry about Greg, Ana. You shouldn’t have had todeal with that. It won’t happen again.” I feel my brows crease, confused as to why he’s apologising on Greg’s behalf. He wasn’t the one to touch me without consent. He didn’t degrade me or call me that disgusting pet name.
“Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong, in fact you stood up for me.” I say. Dean rests his hands on his hips and shakes his head like he’s truly disappointed in Greg’s behaviour, and I can only assume that he is.
“I know. I’m just sorry for him treating you that way, you don’t ever deserve that from someone, especially a man. He won’t be welcome here any more.” My stomach flips and spirals at his words, at his protectiveness over a complete stranger who he found in the backseat of a beat up Chevy. I don’t know much about Dean but I already know that he’s a good man. This situation alone is enough to confirm it for me and that says a lot on my part as someone who’s probably had theworstrun in with bad men. My eyes blink rapidly as I stare at him for a beat before dipping my head.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it, plus, I think Lyla here did all the hard work.” I joke, a laugh slipping free, a sound that I don’t recognise from myself. Dean’s eyes widen and the corner of his mouth tips up in a shy grin.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I feel his emerald eyes trace over my face before landing on my mouth. “You should laugh more, it suits you.” I suck in a sharp breath at his words and bring the flesh of my bottom lip between my teeth to keep me from saying something stupid. Dean holds our gaze for another second then turns away, severing the connection between us and I feel like I can finally breathe. Like he’s just given me all my oxygen back.
Dean grabs the Mustangs keys from his back pocket, climbsinto the car and fires up the engine. The loud rumbling vibrates throughout the enclosed space. He revs it a couple of times then swings his arm over the passenger seat, turns to look out of the rear window and begins to reverse the car out of the garage onto the car park ready for collection. The simple movement alone has me feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling, and the slimy hands of guilt twist around my stomach, making its appearance again and I scold myself like a petulant child for having these forbidden feelings. I don’t deserve to have these feelings, they’re wrong and vile.
I’m still a married woman for God’s sake and Dean doesn’t deserve the darkness and hellfire that comes with being in my orbit.
