Page 6 of The Way We Are

My blood boils when Axel steps up to my truck to clutch Savannah’s arm. His hold is so firm, her pasty white skin turns pink in an instant. I don’t know what angers me more: the fact he has his hands on Savannah, or that she didn't flinch when grabbed so abruptly. Is his manhandling a regular occurrence for them? If so, fuck my job. I've kept quiet about abuse in my family for years. I'm not going to do that to Savannah—no fucking chance in hell.

“You’ve got five seconds to get your hands off her before I—”

“Before you what?” Axel interrupts, stepping closer to me until our chests touch.

Because he hasn't released Savannah from his grasp, he drags her along with him. With her tiny frame no match for a man his size, her foot slips off the front bumper of my truck, sending her hurtling toward the asphalt. Ice slides through my veins. Axel’s red-hot glare is so focused on me, he doesn’t attempt to break her fall. He’d rather watch her tumble then give up belittling me in front of his friends, who are watching our exchange with humor slashed across their features.

“Let Savannah go,” I demand, locking my slit gaze with his hand still clutching her arm for dear life. “Then I’ll show youexactlywhat I think about you putting your hands on her.”

“Ryan, it’s fine,” Savannah assures, peering at me from behind Axel’s shoulder as she tugs him away from me.

Happy with the three inches her effort lodged between Axel and me, she glances into my eyes, attempting to subdue the anger tearing through my veins with a grateful stare. Under different circumstances, her tactic would have worked, but not today—not while Axel’s chubby fingers are still notching into her tiny arm.

“No, Savannah. This isnotokay. This is far fromokay.” My first two sentences are for Savannah, but my last one belongs to Axel. “People only treat you one way... the way you allow them to treat you.”

My teeth grit. I didn’t mean for my words to come out so violent. I’m not angry at Savannah. I’m fucking furious men like my dad make this shit acceptable. Saying you love someone doesn’t give you the right to treat them poorly.

When I step closer to Axel, planning to show him how real men show affection to the women they love, Savannah places herself between us, stopping my steps midstride. Her tiny body is shaking so much that even without any part of us touching, I can feel her shudders.

Peering into my eyes, she hands me a rusty cylinder-looking thing I didn’t notice she was grasping until now. “Your spark plugs are corroded. Go to Chris’s and ask him to replace them. Once you screw the new ones in, you’ll be good to go.”

Although she's talking mechanics, her eyes relay an entirely different set of words:I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

“You don’t have to put up with this, Savannah. Let me help you,” I implore, not the least bit intimidated by the death glare Axel is giving me.

He should be grateful Savannah is standing between us, because if she weren’t, my fists would ensure his ugly insides match his outsides.

“Come with me to Chris’s—”

“I can’t,” Savannah replies before I can finish. “We have somewhere important we need to be. I have to go, Ryan.I don’t have a choice.” She whispers her last sentence so weakly, I barely hear it over my pulse thumping in my ears.

After a final silent plea, she reverts her focus to Axel. Smiling sweetly, she gently tugs on his arm, wordlessly coercing him to leave with her. “Come on. Your uncle is waiting for us,” she purrs, her voice one I’ve never heard her use before. “We can’t be late. We barely survived his wrath last month from our tardiness.”

The arrogance in Axel’s eyes detonates when his hand drops from Savannah’s arm to the curve her micro shorts are barely containing. “How many times do I have to tell you, babe?Thiscomes before anything.” His egotistical statement is accompanied by a squeeze of Savannah’s ass, his grab on her backside as firm as the one he had on her arm. “If we’re late because you can’t wait a second longer, we’re late. I’m never going to say no to you and your insatiable needs.”

Savannah slaps his chest, feigning playfulness from his tease. She's a terrible actor. Savannah isn’t like normal girls. Goosebumps don’t pop up on her skin when she's excited; only when she is freaked out do bumps appear. And although the street lighting is poor, I can’t miss the hundreds of tiny dots lining her arms and nape.

She isn’t excited by Axel’s tease; she's as disgusted as I am.

When Axel spins around to high five two of his friends who are fueling his arrogance with inappropriate catcalls, the worry lining Savannah’s face clears away. Assuming she has calmed the beast, she exhales a raspy breath before pivoting on her heels and heading to her car parked three spots down from my truck.

It's a pity she doesn’t remember me as I well as I remember her.

I’m shocked she's so forgetful. Kenny Truman still flinches every time I pass him in the hall of our school. He learned the hard way how much I hate it when males use their size to intimidate the female population. Kenny may have only been in the eighth grade at the time, but he hasn’t cornered another girl in the school cafeteria since the day I discovered him holding Savannah and her best friend Justine hostage.

Brax thought I overreacted to his demand for a kiss, but he didn’t see the fear in Savannah’s eyes. Kenny should be lucky it was me who found them. If it were one of Justine’s four older brothers, it would have been much worse.

Shrugging off old memories with a quick work of my jaw, I step into Savannah’s path. The spark I felt two months ago rockets through my chest when she flattens her palm on my torso and lifts her downcast head.

“You need to let me go, Ryan,” she faintly whispers as her glistening eyes dart to Axel, who is hanging out on the sidewalk with his scumbag minions.

Confident Axel isn’t paying us any attention, Savannah locks her eyes with mine. “Please drop this,” she begs, her words so soft they are practically mouthed. “It isn’t what you're thinking. He’s just showing off.”

I slant my head to the side, shocked she gave the first excuse every woman gives when defending her abusive partner. “Savannah—”

“Please, Ryan,” she interrupts, begging.

The rawness in her tone makes it seem as if I am hurting her more than Axel’s grip on her arm. That kills me. The idea of me hurting her in any way utterly guts me. So much so, I take a step back, incapable of hurting her for a second longer than I already have.

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