Holding Strong
Page 117

 Lori Foster

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Slapping at herself and making crazy noises, Merissa ran for her brother. The bug stayed in pursuit—and landed on her shoulder.
“Ack!”
That really set her off, and Denver winced in sympathy when she caught the back of Cannon’s shirt and almost jerked him off his feet.
Since Cannon held the lid on the can and no one wanted the snakes getting loose again, Armie intercepted Merissa, hugged her tight to still her chaotic movement, and swatted the bug away. It dropped to the ground, kicked its many legs, and subsided.
Clearly, Merissa didn’t realize the bug was dead given how she continued to yelp and high-step and flail her arms.
“Rissy,” Armie said, drawing her away from Cannon again. “It’s gone.”
“Where? Where?” Now it was Armie she tried to crawl behind, twisting and jumping.
“Rissy,” Cannon said, his tone controlled. “It’s okay now, hon. It’s dead.”
“How do you know? Did you kill it?”
Armie grinned as he pulled her back around in front of him. “I think you screamed it to death.”
She saw the bug, shuddered in squeamish distaste, and hid her face. Using the side of his shoe, Armie kicked it away.
Indulgent, he cupped her shoulder. “Now you can’t even see it.”
She peeked from between her fingers, saw it was true, and dropped her arms to glare at Armie. “Are you laughing at me?”
He smiled, smoothed her hair, and said in a soft, husky whisper, “Just a little.”
In the next second, awareness sparked between them.
Denver saw it. Maybe Cannon did, too, given the way his brows slowly climbed up.
And suddenly Merissa smooshed her entire body up close to Armie and buried her face in his neck. “Thank you.”
Holding his arms out to his sides, Armie said, “Uh...”
Cannon shook his head, gave Denver a look, and began dragging the can of snakes to the driveway. “I’m taking Rissy home with me tonight. I don’t want her staying here alone.”
Denver didn’t want that, either. And since he was the one taking Cherry away, he offered, “I could stay here with both of them.”
“No.”
Understanding that Cannon wanted to ensure his sister’s safety himself, Denver nodded. “I’m going in to check on Cherry.”
“All right.” They both looked back to see Armie slowly, cautiously, put his arms around Merissa. Cannon’s expression seemed more thoughtful than anything else. “I’ve never seen Rissy freak out like that before.”
“It was a gargantuan bug,” Denver reasoned. “Most girls carry on over bugs.”
“Rissy isn’t like most girls.” Cannon continued to watch his sister and Armie, especially now that Armie wasn’t looking so uncomfortable, had in fact embraced her and was stroking her back. The arrival of a police car finally interrupted.
Cannon told Denver, “Go check on Cherry, maybe patch up your head, clean up the blood. I’ll field this until you get back.”
But it wasn’t the officer he headed to. It was his sister.
And his best friend.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DENVER FOUND HER just inside the front door, leaning back on the wall, her arms tight around herself, her eyes closed and her lashes damp.
Seeing her like that made the rage worse, turning it into a live thing inside him. He worked his jaw, sucked a slow breath in through his nose. Hoping to shield her from everything he felt, he kept a few feet between them. “I’ll fix your car, but from here on out I’m driving you.”
Her eyes opened and she swallowed hard. “Thank you. I know I should insist on driving myself—”
“Damn it—”
“—but truthfully, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back in that car.”
Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.
“I have this...thing about bugs. Any bugs. But spiders...” She shuddered. “Things that fly...”
“And snakes,” he agreed. “I’m sorry you were so scared. I should have checked the car first.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have fucking checked anyway.” He breathed harder, the anger blossoming no matter how he tried to tamp it down. “You’re moving in with me.”
She stared at him, her eyes flared.
Well, hell. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out like an order. What he said sounded...permanent, not a temporary solution to a bad situation. But fuck it. He wouldn’t take it back.