“It’s not!” she yelled and pointed to the animal. “Look at him! It’s been struggling for minutes. It keeps trying to get up, but it can’t. It’s bleeding…” She stared at it, almost transfixed. “It’s dying.”
I wrapped a hand around her chin and forced her eyes away. “Stop looking,” I commanded.
“How long is it going to lie there and suffer? Its last moments of life will be nothing but pain and panic, and it’s all my fault.”
A fat, glistening tear fell out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. Her eyes squeezed shut as her chest heaved, and the tear dripped onto my hand and slid across my skin.
“Aw, baby,” I whispered. “I’m gonna make it stop.”
Her eyes reopened and focused on me. I released her chin and walked through the beams of the headlights. The animal was definitely struggling, and it definitely wasn’t easy to watch. I could almost smell its fear in the air when I drew closer. As I came forward, it panicked more, its already wide eyes going even bigger.
I talked to it softly, kindly, trying to convey I wasn’t here to make it hurt.
I was going to take away its pain.
I didn’t want to do this. But if I didn’t, Ivy would stand here and cry until every last breath drained from its body. She would beat herself up over the way it was suffering, over the way it hurt.
Blood smeared its light-colored fur, and one of its legs was completely twisted. It was a female, something I hoped Ivy didn’t realize and something I didn’t plan on sharing with her when this was done. I swept the surrounding roadside for any fawns waiting anxiously nearby, but thank God this doe seemed to be alone.
“Hey, there,” I murmured when I was close enough to touch it.
The animal stilled, like maybe it could fool me into thinking it wasn’t there anymore.
“Sometimes life sucks, huh?” I said, taking another tentative step closer. She was watching me out of the corner of her eyes and her breathing was very labored.
Several feet away, Ivy called my name. I held up my hand so she would stay where she was.
“This isn’t something I wanna do,” I told the doe, “but sometimes the hard thing is the best thing. At least this way you’ll have some peace.”
I moved swiftly, wrapping my arms around the neck of the animal. She was already growing weaker; her struggles weren’t enough to keep me back.
I took a deep breath and shut my eyes.
Then I broke her neck.
The distinct cracking sound was so loud to my ears that I stood there for long moments wondering if I’d gone deaf.
The animal was limp and lifeless in my arms, and when I realized it was over, I lowered it to the ground. Because she was partially still in the road, I dragged the body into the grass, near the trees.
I hoped she was at peace.
When it was done, I turned back to go to Ivy. I faltered when I saw she was only steps away. Her rounded, wide eyes were fixed on the deer and her lower lip was trembling. I pulled off the lightweight athletic jacket I was wearing, draped it around her shoulders, and tucked it underneath her chin. She didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s no more pain,” I whispered, palming the back of her head. “He’s at peace now.”
Ivy sank into me, and I felt her shoulders shake with silent tears. I held her close, as tight as I dared. Most women were full of drama; they liked to turn on the tears when they thought it would get them somewhere.
But Ivy wasn’t most women.
I guess I’d never realized that until very recently.
Or maybe I had. Maybe I just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself.
She wasn’t being dramatic right now. She was genuinely hurting, genuinely in pain over this animal. The fact that she hadn’t kept on driving after she hit it said a lot. Instead, she pulled over, got out, and called someone for help.
Calling my sister wasn’t the best form of help. I’d have to tell her that. But later, when she wasn’t crying in my arms.
Rimmel was so sensitive to animals; they both would have stood here on the side of the road and cried. Two women blubbering on the side of the road, in the dark, all alone.
Damn.
I knew Rimmel needed looking after, but it was crystal clear that Ivy needed the same.
Thank Jesus I picked up the phone tonight.
“C’mon,” I whispered and tucked her into my side. “Let’s go. You’re freezing.”
“We’re just going to leave it there?” she asked, craning her neck to look back.
I blocked her view with my arm. “Did you want to have a funeral for it?” I asked. I deserved an Academy Award for making that sound sincere and not snide.
She tipped her head back and looked up at me with wide, pain-filled eyes. “You would do that?”
Something in my chest squeezed, and I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat. “If that’s what you need to feel better, then yes, baby, I would.” In that second, I meant it. I would give a damn sermon over the body of that animal right then if it meant giving her any peace.
“Don’t call me that.” She looked down.
I tipped her face back up. “What?”
“Baby.”
Shit. I called her baby?
“Why not?” I asked. I was supposed to tell her she’d been hearing things. That grief was making her cuckoo.
“Because I like it.” Her voice was deep and scratched from all the crying she’d been doing.
Now was not the time to get a hard-on.
Now was not the time for a serious case of stiff dick.
I just killed a deer. I was on the side of a road. I was comforting a girl who literally drove me insane every chance she got.
But I called her baby.
And she liked it.
I brushed the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip and tucked her beneath my arm. “C’mon, Blondie. Time to go.”
“Prada is in the car. I left her there. I didn’t want her to see…”
“Okay, I’ll get her.” I promised and got the dog and the other stuff she had piled in the front of the car. I took all her stuff, including the dog, to my truck. When I came back, she was still standing in the same spot, seemingly staring off in space like she forgot where we were.
After parking her car neatly on the side of the road, I cut the lights and engine. I made sure it was locked up before I shut the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“We’ll come back for it in the morning.”
“Just leave it here?”
Why did this surprise her? Did she really think I’d let her behind the wheel of a car right now? She was beyond upset, and it was dark. Since she’d just managed to mow down an animal when she was in her right state of mind, I wasn’t about to risk what she’d do now.
“I’ll come get it in the morning, and I’ll look it over for damage from the accident,” was all I said. I didn’t think she’d appreciate my real thoughts.
“I’m gonna get a lecture from my dad. And my brothers,” she muttered.
I smiled. “Maybe I can fix it. You won’t have to say anything.”
“You know how to fix cars?”
I stopped beside my truck and pressed a hand over my chest. “I’m a man.”
She shrugged like that meant nothing.
I slapped my Ford on the hood. “I did all the work on this beast.”
She eyed my truck as if giving it an appraisal. “Not bad. For a pretty boy.”
“You just call me a pretty boy?” I was incredulous.
“If the shoe fits.” Ivy shrugged and started around to the passenger side.
“Oh, hells no.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her around. In seconds, I had her pinned between me and the grill of the truck.
Her curves were distracting. My hand found that place where her waist dipped in and fitted itself there with unapologetic ease. “There’s nothing about me that’s a boy, Blondie,” I drawled, stroking my fingers along her side. I lowered my mouth closer to hers so
she could feel the words as I whispered them between my lips. “Everything about me is all man.”
Her head fell back against the truck; the curve of the hood fit into the arc of her neck, displaying all its creamy perfection to its full potential. “Is that so?”
I pressed my lips against the exposed, vulnerable flesh. Her quiet sigh made me hard all over again. I trailed feather-light kisses upward on the underside of her jaw and then up to the corner of her lips.
She remained pressed into the truck, and I remained plastered to her front.
Our lips were so close they almost touched, but I didn’t close the last centimeters. I held myself there and felt sick satisfaction when she moved restlessly against me.
“I know so,” I murmured. “And so do you.”
I pulled back, robbing us both of the kiss we almost shared.
When she realized I was gone, she straightened and blinked. I saw something snarky form on her tongue. I wasn’t in the mood, so I slid my fingers between hers. The words died before she could speak, and I led her around to the passenger side.
My truck was lifted off the ground. It had large tires and no step rail to make getting in easy. When the door was open Ivy hesitated, unsure how to get in.
Usually, girls just whined and wanted me to lift them. I did it, just so I wouldn’t have to hear them yap.
I was actually looking forward to giving Ivy a boost, but she didn’t ask. I was about to wrap my hands around her waist and lift when she moved forward, took a leap, and grabbed onto the handle on the inside of the door. From there, she climbed in like she’d done it a hundred times before.
Well, that was sexy.
“You part monkey?” I cracked.
“I’ve got lots of sides you’ve never seen.”
“You’ve got lots I have.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “There’s a lot more to a woman than just sex.”
I grunted and slammed the door. This conversation was heading into Nowhereville.
Walking around the front of the truck I glanced back at her car and the spot where I knew the deer was lying. The image of the way she looked when I pulled up was seared into my head. The sound of her crying and the bleak way she tortured herself over the hurt she caused another living being was also something I wouldn’t soon forget.
Yeah, Ivy had a lot of sides. She was like a flower in the spring, slowly blooming and opening up her petals to reveal a stunning blossom.
I was always good—no, I had it down to an art form—when it came to keeping my dealings with women one-dimensional.
Yet the more of Ivy that bloomed, the more I wanted to know.
I wanted so much more.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ivy
I’d never been inside his truck before.
Sure, I’d seen the monster driving around campus and parked at the parties we all attended. Braeden’s truck was the kind you would see on a beer commercial. It was an older model Ford, cherry red (but it was never shiny because that would mean he’d have to wash it), and had huge tires on it. I would bet money he put them on there so he could go mudding through the woods on the other side of campus.
It wasn’t sleek and sporty like Romeo’s Hellcat. But it was just as defining and just as attention-getting as the sports car.
This truck was macho, full of muscle in the form of what was beneath the hood, and was definitely rough around the edges. It was always dusty, there was always mud on the tires, and the fact he had no step rails for people—like ladies—to get in showed he was no gentleman.
Maybe this truck was meant to intimidate, but it never worked on me. I had too many brothers to be put off by this kind of vehicle. And I didn’t need a step rail to get in it either. I might look like a girly-girl, and I was, but I’d grown up a tomboy in the mountains of North Carolina.
Inside, there was a single bench seat, and it didn’t have any fancy cup holders in the center, just seatbelts. The dashboard was black and didn’t have all the gadgets new cars had today. There was just a radio (he upgraded to add a single-disc CD player), the heat and A/C controls, and the couple other necessary gauges and buttons. The thingy that put the car in drive and park was on a long black stick and stuck up out of the floor.
It was a big space in here, and it was much cleaner than the outside.
It made me curious.
Was Braeden a lot cleaner, a lot tidier on the inside than what he wanted people to believe?
My feet didn’t touch the floorboards, so I swung them over the floor as my eyes snooped around the inside. His jacket was warm. And it smelled like him.
I have no idea what he smelled like; there was no signature scent to Braeden. It wasn’t some cologne you could get at the mall. Yet whatever it was, I loved. It was heady, the kind of scent that when you got a lungful, something inside you instantly eased. Kind of like walking into a coffee shop after a long day and being bombarded with the rich scent of coffee.
I curled my hands in the too-long sleeves of the jacket and leaned against the seat.
“You still cold?” he asked.
I shrugged. I was, but I didn’t care.
“Come here.” His voice was just as enticing as his words.
No guy ever had so much power to affect me the way he did.
He lifted his arm, inviting me close. I was sort of glad there were no cup holders in the center. Their absence allowed me to slide right over and fit myself against him.
Braeden dropped his arm around me and his free hand on the steering wheel. Once he pulled onto the road, he tucked his hand into my side, pulling me a little closer.
My head felt heavy, my eyes puffy, and my stomach was slightly nauseated. The image of that deer just wouldn’t leave my thoughts.
His shirt was soft against my cheek. He was so warm, so large, and I felt so safe sitting here beside him that without thinking, I turned and faced him, tucked my knees up close, and curled into his side.
He didn’t say anything, but his arm tightened.
My eyes slid closed, and he slowly pulled out and turned in the direction of Rimmel’s. He killed that deer… Well, technically, I was the reason it was dead and he was the reason it didn’t have to suffer. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been, to break its neck like that.
I never would have been able to do such a thing.
But I was grateful he did. The image of that deer struggling, hurt and confused like that, would haunt me for years to come. It didn’t understand why it was hurting, and it only wanted to get away where it thought it would be safe.
I’d never hit an animal before. I hoped I never did again. The horrible sound it made when the body slammed into the side of my car… so deafening and frightening.
My car skidded sideways, and I’d screamed. When the car was finally still on the side of the road, I looked up and saw it. It was illuminated by my headlights, and I knew immediately it was going to die.
Driving away didn’t even cross my mind. I got out and rushed toward the animal, but my presence seemed to make its pain worse. And I admit panic clawed at me, too. What if it was able to get up? Would it come at me, try and attack me for what I did?
I paced on the side of the road for a long time, trying to figure out what to do and getting more hysterical by the minute. I called Rimmel because she was always a voice of reason. She was close by and she would know what to do. Hurt animals were her specialty.
But B answered. The second his voice, urgent and demanding, flowed through the line, my body sagged with relief. I hated it, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own where Braeden was concerned. It reacted to him as if he were the most familiar thing in my life.
I mean, just now I was curled against him and drawing comfort from the even way he breathed.
And, oh momma, if he didn’t stop calling me baby… It wasn’t the kind of nickname a feminists would want. Hell, most of them would argue it tried to pigeonhole us into the role of a lesser equal.
But not to me. Yeah, maybe Braeden did make me feel… lesser, but not in a bad way. It’s just because he was so big. He was so all-encompassing that it was impossible not to feel small. I realized I’d always felt that way around him. Maybe it’s the reason I disliked him so much. I thought he was trying to make me feel unimportant, like I didn’t matter.
Yet that wasn’t it at all.
Lately, when he looked at me, I felt like I mattered so much.
The truck slowed and he pulled into the long driveway around Romeo’s parents’ and parked nearby the pool house.
I wasn’t ready to move away, to pull away from him just yet.
To my surprise, he didn’t try to make me.
The engine cut out and the silence of night filled the air around us.
His fingers started idly caressing my side. Even through his jacket and my clothes, the touch seared me to my soul.
“Hey,” he murmured.
I didn’t lift my head or open my eyes. “Hmm?”
“Are you hurt at all? Did you hit your head or anything when that deer ran into you?”
I mentally took stock of myself. How was I supposed to feel any pain when I was sitting here like this?
“I don’t think so,” I whispered.
“Thank fuck,” he murmured and lifted his hand to stroke the side of my head.
And then he did something.
Something I never expected in a million years.
Something I never thought I’d like so intensely.
He pressed his lips to the top of my head. He kissed my hair like he really was grateful and relieved I was okay.
Intimacy filled the cab of his truck, thick enough to cut with a knife. I tilted my face up and our eyes met.
What was happening between us? How had everything shifted so much, so fast?
I wanted an explanation, but I was sort of afraid I already knew.
There’s a thin line between love and hate.
But I didn’t love Braeden. The idea was laughable. It was beyond ridiculous.
Missy had him first.
I pulled back, suddenly very ashamed of the way I was feeling. I was doing it again.
A sharp tap on the driver’s-side window made me squeal. Braeden turned and looked, even as his hand found mine where it lay on the seat. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just Rim.”
#Selfie Page 18
