I was on my feet before I even had a second to think. "Stop the bus!" I yelled.
Was she crazy? What was she doing chasing after my bus? What was she doing here at all?
The driver shot a glare back at me.
"I said stop the bus!" I yelled again.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He looked in his rearview and saw the girl chasing the bus, but turned onto the main street anyway. "You should've said your goodbyes before we left, pal. We're not stopping until we get to Grand Dam."
The couple other people on the bus, though interested in what was transpiring, obviously agreed with the driver. Nobody wanted to fuck around at three in the morning and I didn't blame them. They all wanted to get where they were going, but the problem was that I wasn't going the same place. Not anymore.
I stormed up the aisle and stopped next to the driver. "Stop the bus and let me off," I said, as calmly as possible, though I felt anything but calm. "Please."
He ground his teeth but reluctantly pulled over to the side of the road. "I'm not waiting for you," he warned. "You get off this bus and I'm out of here."
"Great. I hope it's a good trip." I jumped down the stairs and turned to see Melissa, still running, but far behind us.
A million things hit me at once. I was confused but happy to see here there. I was worried, too, since I didn't know what had happened since I'd seen her last or if she was okay. Most of all I felt something hot deep in my chest, something that made me hustle as quickly as I could down the road, gritting my teeth every time I jostled my ribs.
Melissa stopped in front of me, panting. Her face was pink with exhaustion, hair a tangled mess. She was wearing pajama shorts and a tank top, and I could see the outline of her breasts through the thin cotton. I licked my lips, watching as she broke out into a wheezing explanation of what she was doing there.
"I'm so sorry...I know you're probably...you probably don't want to get messed up in my drama, but it meant so much to me what you did today. I—"
I didn't need an explanation. She would never have to explain herself to me. I surprised her by wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close, ignoring the biting pain that shot out from my side. It was worth it just to hold her.
Melissa melted against me, hands balled in the fabric of my t-shirt and face pressed against my chest. It felt good to have her there, like I was finally satisfying my inexplicable need to protect her. I had her in my arms now and she was safe there, and whatever she wanted to tell me didn't matter.
It felt right.
She smelled like beer, but also something feminine and earthy and all her own. I nuzzled my head against her shoulder and inhaled, feeling her pulse jump in her throat. My cock responded but I pushed the feeling down. Now wasn’t the time, but fuck if it wasn’t hard to tell my body that when she was pressed so tight against me.
After a minute or so, Melissa gently pushed on my chest until I pulled back a little.
She looked up at me, tears brimming in her beautiful crystal eyes. I pushed a piece of hair from her face, and smiled. "Hey."
She laughed. "Hey."
"You chased after my bus, crazy girl."
Melissa buried her face in my chest, groaning in embarrassment. "I'm sorry! That was such a weird—"
"Shh." I rubbed a comforting circle on her back, unable to hold back a smile at how cute she was when embarrassed. "No, I'm glad you did. I was worried about you."
She lifted her face up again, and this time she was so sad it hurt to look at her.
"Yeah, well as it turned out, I was worried about me too," she said, wiping a tear from under her eye. "Can I take you out for a bite to eat?"
My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the afternoon. Things had been a little too crazy for me to even consider food, but now I was ravenous.
"Yeah, let's do it."
I released her and we started walking back toward the bus station. Melissa kicked gravel out of her path and stared at the road ahead, obviously troubled.
"What happened tonight?" I asked.
"You mean after..." She scrunched up her face in disgust. "After Matt hit you with the bottle?"
"Matt." I tested the name aloud. "Glad I know who to thank for the massive headache. And yes, I mean what happened after that."
"I'm so sorry I left," she said, looking anywhere but at me. "Donnie wouldn't let me stay and..."
I stopped. "Melissa. Look at me."
She turned and our gazes locked. I enunciated every word so there would be no misunderstanding.
"You do not need to apologize for anything that happened tonight. I may not know much about you, but I know that you are not at fault. Not for any of it. You're a victim, sweetheart."
She winced. "Yeah. I know. But it's like I turn into a different person when Donnie’s around, someone who doesn’t fight for the same things I normally fight for. I'm embarrassed."
We started walking, and when she threaded her fingers through mine I felt a swell of pleasure in my chest.
"You don't need to be embarrassed, especially not around me," I told her. "I'm just happy that you're here. That's all that matters to me."
We made it back to the parking lot and she directed me toward a little silver sedan. She hadn't even closed the door properly before running after the bus, which made me happy for some reason. We were quiet as we got settled. She was a vision of calm as she buckled her seatbelt and I almost forgot the events that had brought us here. Hell, staring too long at those pajama shorts would probably make me forget my own first name. I stared out the front window instead.
"You're right, you know," she said. "About me being a victim. And I know you're right. I think it's just going to take some time to mentally sort through everything that's happened between Donnie and me. I'm kind of mess in the meantime." She started driving, eyes laser focused on the road ahead of her. "Even as I'm with you, and I know that leaving Donnie's house tonight was the right thing to do, part of me still wants to turn this car around and try to sneak back into bed before he notices. Part of me is heartbroken. Part of me is just delirious. I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Don't believe anything." I looked over at her, admiring her profile, the way her chin sloped into a long elegant neck and how her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks when she blinked. "It's times like this that relying on your instincts can save your life. Until you can believe in something, you've got to trust your gut."
She glanced over at me for the first time since we'd gotten in the car, and it was a skeptical glance.
"What if my gut told me to abandon you on the side of the highway and floor it all the way to San Francisco?" she asked.
I chuckled. "Then I'd say it's been nice knowing you, Melissa, and I wish you the best in the Golden City."
Melissa didn't head back into town like I expected. We soon hit the freeway, and I began to wonder if maybe she wasn't kidding.
She must have heard my unspoken question because she smiled. "We're heading a town over. There's a twenty-four hour diner just off the highway that I think you're gonna like."
"Is there nowhere in Cannon we can eat?"
Her brow wrinkled. "It's better if we don't."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed. "Donnie's family is involved in almost every business in Cannon. It's great when you want to get a table quick, but not so great when you've just snuck out in the middle of the night to pick up the random stranger who is on the top of Donnie's shit list."
"Point taken. Donnie doesn’t know you’re gone?"
“No.”
“Are you going to go back?”
She stiffened, and I almost regretted asking the question. Almost. I deserved to know, especially since I was the top of his shit list, as she said.
"I don't know what I'm doing, if I'm being honest."
"Melissa,” I said in a low, soothing tone. “Why are you with him?"
Silence filled the car, and I wondered if that would be th
e end of the conversation until we got to the restaurant. Naomi told me Melissa liked to put up walls, so I shouldn't have been surprised when she changed the topic.
"So, are you one of those people that don't believe breakfast should be eaten outside of the morning or what?"
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Chapter 12
Melissa
It was like the crappy fluorescents of Ma's Diner brought out otherwise hidden facets of color in Jack's bruises. He looked way worse than I thought he did before, and that familiar stab of guilt twisted in my stomach again. He didn't want me to feel guilty, but that didn't mean I could just stop feeling it. He was a mess and now I'd pulled him into my mess. Who knew how many more bruises he might wind up with because of me?
A waitress greeted us at the door with all the unconvincing cheer of someone working a boring night shift and all the suspicion expected when two battered looking people show up for breakfast at four a.m.. If Jack's face looked worse under the lights, mine couldn't have looked great either. I ran my hands through my hair self-consciously as the waitress, Cheyenne, showed us to our table and gave us menus. When she left to grab us some drinks, I let my menu rest on the table and looked over at Jack.
"You wanna hear something strange?" I asked.
He smiled at me over the top of his menu. "Always."
"I know nothing about you, not a lick, but I feel like I know you. I trust you."
"That is strange," he replied. "And dangerous. I could be a bad guy."
"You're not." I met his gaze boldly. "You wouldn't be here with me if you were."
The corner of his mouth quirked and he stared right back at me. "All the same. Who says I have pure intentions?"
My tummy did a little flip. The cut on his lip and his bruised face only enhanced his roguish features, and just from looking at him I doubted anybody would infer his intentions were anything close to pure. I suddenly felt like I was dining with a lion, and I wasn't sure whether I was the meal or not. If I was the meal, would that be so bad?
"Don't be like that," I chided. "It's a good thing. It feels nice." I swallowed. "It feels safe."
Jack's expression dipped from devious to solemn in a flash. "Of course." He nodded and raised the menu back up. "I'm glad you feel safe with me. I just mean that you should be more careful. There are a lot of people out there who would gladly take advantage of that kind of trust."
I raised my menu up too. "I know."
Cheyenne came back around to take our order, then disappeared with the menus. There was no more hiding.
Jack's eyes travelled down my face, taking in each inch like he expected to be tested on it. My cheeks warmed and I gnawed on my lip. I wasn't a lip biter, not by a long shot, and it made me feel like a child. I decided it was time to get the conversation rolling.
"I don't know where we should start," I admitted.
Jack raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"With all of this." I gestured between us, around us. "I just pulled you off of a Greyhound in the middle of the night after sneaking out of my abusive boyfriend's house. How do we even begin talking about all that?"
Jack's half-smile made my legs feel rubbery. I resisted the urge to suck my lip back between my teeth and met his gaze.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said. "You don't owe me any sort of explanation. I got off that bus because I wanted to, end of story. If you want to sit here in silence until the sun comes up, that's perfectly fine with me. If you want to talk about the weather and sports, also fine. Don't feel like you have to explain anything to me."
"So we can talk about whatever I want?"
He chuckled and nodded. "Sure. Shoot."
I didn't even need to think about it.
"I wanna know more about you," I said. "All I know so far is that you're some badass fighter guy and that you have a weakness for damsels in distress."
"That about sums it up." He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back against the seat, one arm resting over the back of the booth. I had to tear my eyes away from the swell of his bicep.
"I think there's a lot more to you than that. Where are you from?"
"Bell Springs," he said. "It's about thirty miles from here, but is almost exactly the same otherwise."
"You grew up there?"
Jack nodded, and glanced down at his cup. I got the sense he wasn't used to opening up to people, and if I weren't so damned curious I might back off. I couldn't help myself though. He wasn't like anyone I'd ever met and I wanted to know everything there was to know about him.
"Do you have family there?" I asked.
Jack shook his head. "Not anymore. Not really. My mom died a few years back and my sister's living on campus at Arizona U. She's the only family I've got. Nothing interesting there."
There was a sadness in his eyes that struck a chord in me.
"What was she like?" I asked. "Your mom?"
His lips curved into a wistful smile. "Just like my sister," he said. "Willful. Stubborn. Caring. She always had something to say about something and never let anybody get away with pissing her off."
"She sounds like she was a great woman," I replied. "I'm sorry for your loss."
I wanted to know more but I didn’t want to end up pushing him too far. We all had our emotional baggage, and I couldn't imagine how hard it would be to lose somebody I loved as much as he clearly loved his mom. Then again, I didn't know what it was like to love somebody that much in the first place. It wasn't something that upset me to think about, just another fact in my fucked up life, but it stuck out to me at moments like this when I wondered who was better off in the end.
"She was a great woman," Jack replied. "I did everything I could to save her but it wasn't enough. I know it wasn't my fault, and that cancer's the kind of motherfucker that doesn't care how hard you try or how much you love, but it took a long time for me to wake up every morning without a massive knot of guilt in my chest, you know?"
I was surprised by how much he was opening up to me. Surprised and touched. There were a couple other people in the diner, but it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves, like our little booth was cut off from the rest of the diner and the world.
"Cancer," I repeated. "That's rough. I'm so sorry."
"Breast cancer," he said with a solemn nod. "I've been looking after my sister ever since, but these days she mostly looks after herself."
His face brightened when he talked about his sister. I was always jealous of people with siblings, especially those who got along well with them. Growing up alongside other foster kids provided some sort of camaraderie, but it wasn’t the same.
"What's she like? Your sister?"
"Sadie's something else," he said. "She's nearly finished her Economics degree and makes it look easy. You would never think she'd had any tragedy in her life, like it didn't make a mark on her the way it did me. She's basically the light of my life, to be honest."
I laughed, feeling more and more at ease the more we talked. I already trusted Jack, but filling in these knowledge gaps was doing wonders to reassure me that trust was well-placed.
"Tell me about you," he urged. "Have you always lived in Cannon?"
I wasn't used to talking about my childhood. The only time it ever came up was when Donnie tried to dismiss my opinions, including how I felt about his drunken behavior. He said if I grew up normally I wouldn't have so many hang ups, and that I should relax a bit. Now anytime I revealed something personal
about myself, I always wondered when it would be used as ammunition against me in the future. I didn’t have that worry with Jack. He stared at me so intently, with such genuine compassion, that it all came spilling out.
"I was a foster kid," I told him. "I never knew my parents and I moved around quite a bit when I was a kid. I basically showed up in Cannon not long after my eighteenth birthday, on a road trip to nowhere with no plan and no idea of what I was going to do with my life. I got a job at the Alibi and have been there ever since." I shrugged. "And that's about it. A boring story."
"Not boring." His gaze skewered me to the spot, and my mouth dried from the intensity of it. "Nothing about you could ever be boring."
Cheyenne showed up with our food just as I was about to douse myself with my glass of water. Jack was an engineer when it came to designing looks that made my heart race and my spine tingle. Was he even aware of what he was doing to me? Here I was, spilling my life to a stranger more intimately than I ever had before, yet somehow getting hot and bothered in the process.
We dug into our food, silent at first. Jack was obviously starving and started devouring his burger and fries without inhibition. I wondered if food was the only thing he devoured with such enthusiasm.
"You asked me earlier why I'm with Donnie," I said, absently swirling a fry in some ketchup.
Jack's gaze shot to mine and he swallowed his mouthful of food. "It's none of my business."
"I think it is, after everything that happened today," I said with a light laugh. "After all, I did leave you to die in a parking lot."
"That wasn't your fault."
"Look, do you want to know or not?"
Jack cocked a brow and smiled. "Go on, then."
I swallowed and licked my lips. I'd only just started realizing all of this myself, so putting it into words wasn't the easiest thing for me to do. I was ready to get it all out though, ready to not let it hang over my head anymore.
"I guess I just always felt like someone the world forgot. I think lots of foster kids feel like that. You're shuffled around like a deck of cards, and at the end of the day you're just one face among thousands. It's so incredibly clichéd and sad, but Donnie made me feel special. The first time he saw me, he zeroed in on me like I was the most important person he'd ever met, and in a stupid small town way I felt honored to earn the attention of one of Cannon's famous Beringers. That faded after a while, but since then I think I've been afraid that I don't know how to stand on my own anymore and that I would only end up proving to Donnie and everyone else that I'm just the nobody girl I was from the start. I don't want to fade away like that." I let some of my hair fall in my face and screwed up my features. "That sounds so stupid. I'm sorry."
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