Holding Strong
Page 37
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Horny men tended to be real magnanimous. But with Cherry, it was more than that. A lot more.
He leaned across the seat to kiss her forehead, and decided he should get them back on the road before he forgot his better intentions. “Stay put. I’m going to change out of this shirt, find your sandals, and then we can get back on the road.”
Now that they had a few minutes, he dug out another of his shirts for her to use if she started shivering again, and made sure everything else she might need was in easy reach.
She twisted around to ogle him as he changed his shirt, then kept watching him as he got back behind the wheel and drove them out of the lot. He could almost read her thoughts and that kept him on the ragged edge.
Knowing he needed a distraction, he waited until she’d eaten half the pretzels and drank most of her cola before he got her talking again. “Tell me about your family.”
She froze up, purposely not looking at him. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Mom, dad?” He glanced her way. “Siblings?”
“Mom and Dad are gone.” She curled up in the corner of her seat.
Away from him.
Seeing her stare out at the passing roadway at nothing in particular told him more than she probably realized.
“Brothers? Sisters?”
As she closed the pretzel bag, apparently done eating, she said, “You didn’t get anything to eat?”
He refused to take the hint. Gentling his tone, Denver hoped to coax her into sharing. “By gone, you mean your folks passed away?”
She nodded, and said nothing more.
Feeling his way, he asked, “Will you tell me how?” The silence grew, and so did her tension.
Denver reached for her hand. “If there’s a reason you don’t want to talk about it—”
“They were murdered.” As she blurted that, she squeezed his fingers—still averting her gaze.
“Murdered?” Never in a million years had he expected that. His thoughts scrambled and the protectiveness he already felt for her expanded. “How? When?”
In the barest of whispers, she said, “It’s not a good story, Denver.”
“I’d still like to know.” He needed to know.
Her eyes dark with shame, she hesitated. “I’ve never told anyone about it. Not even Rissy.”
That, too, made him want to shield her from the world. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us.” Yet he knew there were things he didn’t want to share, not with her, not with anyone. Knowing himself to be a hypocrite, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “You can trust me.”
“It’s just...it embarrasses me.”
“Why?”
“It says a lot about my childhood, and because it’s so awful.”
“Then I’m doubly impressed with how sweet and caring you are.” He continued to hold her hand, to rub his thumb over her knuckles, to wait.
Finally she said, “Dad dealt drugs and Mom helped him.”
Drug dealers? He thought of Carver, Mitty and Gene, and new possibilities made his heart pump harder—with suspicion, and with determination.
To shield her.
To insulate her.
Even when younger, he’d never used recreational drugs. He’d always been an athlete, a fitness buff. What he knew of drugs he’d learned from the news, never from firsthand experience or exposure. “A deal gone bad?”
“Something like that.” She finished off her cola, then rested back in the seat. “This sucks, but I’m ready for another nap.”
Despite how worn she looked, he needed to press her. When they got home, he’d have no excuse for moving in on her, yet until he understood everything, especially the level of threat, he didn’t want her alone.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’re tired.” She should be in bed right now, not going through the inquisition. But he pushed her anyway. “Tell me what happened with your folks, then you can nap more if you want.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“When did they die?”
“When I was fourteen. A little over ten years ago.”
If she’d lost both her parents, where had she lived? Who’d raised her? “They were killed together?”
She breathed deeper, distressed at sharing. “Someone knew they were delivering drugs and they got sidelined on the way to the drop. No one knows for sure what happened, but there was a lot of speculation.”
So the murderers were never found? He supposed a lot of drug crimes went unsolved. “No arrests? No witnesses?”
He leaned across the seat to kiss her forehead, and decided he should get them back on the road before he forgot his better intentions. “Stay put. I’m going to change out of this shirt, find your sandals, and then we can get back on the road.”
Now that they had a few minutes, he dug out another of his shirts for her to use if she started shivering again, and made sure everything else she might need was in easy reach.
She twisted around to ogle him as he changed his shirt, then kept watching him as he got back behind the wheel and drove them out of the lot. He could almost read her thoughts and that kept him on the ragged edge.
Knowing he needed a distraction, he waited until she’d eaten half the pretzels and drank most of her cola before he got her talking again. “Tell me about your family.”
She froze up, purposely not looking at him. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Mom, dad?” He glanced her way. “Siblings?”
“Mom and Dad are gone.” She curled up in the corner of her seat.
Away from him.
Seeing her stare out at the passing roadway at nothing in particular told him more than she probably realized.
“Brothers? Sisters?”
As she closed the pretzel bag, apparently done eating, she said, “You didn’t get anything to eat?”
He refused to take the hint. Gentling his tone, Denver hoped to coax her into sharing. “By gone, you mean your folks passed away?”
She nodded, and said nothing more.
Feeling his way, he asked, “Will you tell me how?” The silence grew, and so did her tension.
Denver reached for her hand. “If there’s a reason you don’t want to talk about it—”
“They were murdered.” As she blurted that, she squeezed his fingers—still averting her gaze.
“Murdered?” Never in a million years had he expected that. His thoughts scrambled and the protectiveness he already felt for her expanded. “How? When?”
In the barest of whispers, she said, “It’s not a good story, Denver.”
“I’d still like to know.” He needed to know.
Her eyes dark with shame, she hesitated. “I’ve never told anyone about it. Not even Rissy.”
That, too, made him want to shield her from the world. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us.” Yet he knew there were things he didn’t want to share, not with her, not with anyone. Knowing himself to be a hypocrite, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “You can trust me.”
“It’s just...it embarrasses me.”
“Why?”
“It says a lot about my childhood, and because it’s so awful.”
“Then I’m doubly impressed with how sweet and caring you are.” He continued to hold her hand, to rub his thumb over her knuckles, to wait.
Finally she said, “Dad dealt drugs and Mom helped him.”
Drug dealers? He thought of Carver, Mitty and Gene, and new possibilities made his heart pump harder—with suspicion, and with determination.
To shield her.
To insulate her.
Even when younger, he’d never used recreational drugs. He’d always been an athlete, a fitness buff. What he knew of drugs he’d learned from the news, never from firsthand experience or exposure. “A deal gone bad?”
“Something like that.” She finished off her cola, then rested back in the seat. “This sucks, but I’m ready for another nap.”
Despite how worn she looked, he needed to press her. When they got home, he’d have no excuse for moving in on her, yet until he understood everything, especially the level of threat, he didn’t want her alone.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’re tired.” She should be in bed right now, not going through the inquisition. But he pushed her anyway. “Tell me what happened with your folks, then you can nap more if you want.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“When did they die?”
“When I was fourteen. A little over ten years ago.”
If she’d lost both her parents, where had she lived? Who’d raised her? “They were killed together?”
She breathed deeper, distressed at sharing. “Someone knew they were delivering drugs and they got sidelined on the way to the drop. No one knows for sure what happened, but there was a lot of speculation.”
So the murderers were never found? He supposed a lot of drug crimes went unsolved. “No arrests? No witnesses?”
