Holding Strong
Page 38
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
She shook her head. “The theory is that Dad fought them and got hurt. Mom was driving the truck. He must have been in the truck bed, because there were bullet holes and his blood and...”
Denver waited as she composed herself.
“At some point, he fell out and they...” She looked at him, then away. “They ran over him.”
Jesus.
“The truck was found half a mile away so Mom had probably kept going until they ran her off the road. Her body was several yards from it. No one knows if she was dragged out or tried to run.” Cherry freed her hand to close her arms around herself, retreating both physically and emotionally. “She’d been shot three times. Once in each knee, and then in the head.”
Emotions bombarded Denver, anger and sympathy the most prevalent. Thinking of what she’d gone through nearly broke his heart. “You’re right. That does sound pretty awful.”
She curled tighter into the corner, her eyes getting heavy.
And so damned sad.
She let out a slow breath. “Mostly, it just sounds like my life.” She turned her face away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m fading out again.”
Denver cupped a hand over her knee. “Go ahead, baby. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
In a mere whisper of sound, she sighed, “Thanks.” Using the extra shirt he’d given her, she cushioned her cheek against the door and within minutes dozed fitfully.
He had a million questions, most of all how a girl with such a terrible background could always be the life of the party.
But he’d literally felt her discomfort, her sorrow over the past, and it devastated him. He appreciated the reprieve, because he needed to regroup as much as she probably did.
Who knew that a woman being sick and vulnerable, sharing a tragic past, would grab his heart quicker than amazing sex?
CHAPTER SEVEN
STILL BLEARY-EYED, Cherry stood beside the car in the driveway of the house she shared with Merissa Colter. The midday sun baked down on her head, sending waves of heat up from the pavement, adding to the discomfort of her fever. Lethargy pulled at her, but she resolutely stayed on her feet.
In the home’s open doorway, Merissa, known as Rissy to her friends and family, waited for them.
As Denver gathered up all their bags, she wanted to help, but of course he’d already refused her. The man was too damn macho for his own good. Then again, she knew just getting herself inside would tax her enough.
Best to get things going. As she stepped away, Denver followed.
Before they’d gotten even halfway up the walkway, both Cannon and Armie came to the door, too.
Stalling, Cherry mumbled, “Oh great.”
Denver glanced down at her. “Problem?”
“Why do they have to be here?” She tried to step behind Denver, but he turned with her, keeping her in his sights.
“Cannon and Armie? What does it matter?”
“I look like death on a bad hair day.”
Smiling, he bent and kissed the bridge of her nose. “I think you look cute.”
Right. “No makeup, hair destroyed, clothes frumpy—”
All too seriously, he said, “Eyes big and dark, cheeks all pink.” His gaze dropped to her chest and he frowned. “But I probably should have found your bra for you to put on.”
“Denver.” Given the gravelly roughness of her voice, her censure sounded like a growl. She crossed her arms around herself and glared at him. “Now I’m going to feel self-conscious about that, too!”
He searched her face. “Other than that, how do you feel?”
His continued concern and understanding humbled her. “Tired, even though I’ve slept endlessly.”
“Come on.” He stepped behind her and nudged her forward. She felt both Armie and Cannon looking her over as she went up the walkway. Or more like she dragged herself. She would have loved to pick up the pace, put some spring in her step.
Instead, it seemed putting one foot in front of the other took all her concentration.
Everyone stepped back to let them enter.
“Damn, Cherry,” Armie said with sympathy. He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Feeling worse?”
“Better, actually.”
Cannon’s hand went to her forehead next. “Sorry, but no one’s going to believe that with your red eyes and nose.”
Freaking great. She stepped out of reach and clutched the railing of the stairs leading down to her part of the house.
Cannon asked Denver, “She has that bug that’s been going around?”
Denver waited as she composed herself.
“At some point, he fell out and they...” She looked at him, then away. “They ran over him.”
Jesus.
“The truck was found half a mile away so Mom had probably kept going until they ran her off the road. Her body was several yards from it. No one knows if she was dragged out or tried to run.” Cherry freed her hand to close her arms around herself, retreating both physically and emotionally. “She’d been shot three times. Once in each knee, and then in the head.”
Emotions bombarded Denver, anger and sympathy the most prevalent. Thinking of what she’d gone through nearly broke his heart. “You’re right. That does sound pretty awful.”
She curled tighter into the corner, her eyes getting heavy.
And so damned sad.
She let out a slow breath. “Mostly, it just sounds like my life.” She turned her face away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m fading out again.”
Denver cupped a hand over her knee. “Go ahead, baby. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
In a mere whisper of sound, she sighed, “Thanks.” Using the extra shirt he’d given her, she cushioned her cheek against the door and within minutes dozed fitfully.
He had a million questions, most of all how a girl with such a terrible background could always be the life of the party.
But he’d literally felt her discomfort, her sorrow over the past, and it devastated him. He appreciated the reprieve, because he needed to regroup as much as she probably did.
Who knew that a woman being sick and vulnerable, sharing a tragic past, would grab his heart quicker than amazing sex?
CHAPTER SEVEN
STILL BLEARY-EYED, Cherry stood beside the car in the driveway of the house she shared with Merissa Colter. The midday sun baked down on her head, sending waves of heat up from the pavement, adding to the discomfort of her fever. Lethargy pulled at her, but she resolutely stayed on her feet.
In the home’s open doorway, Merissa, known as Rissy to her friends and family, waited for them.
As Denver gathered up all their bags, she wanted to help, but of course he’d already refused her. The man was too damn macho for his own good. Then again, she knew just getting herself inside would tax her enough.
Best to get things going. As she stepped away, Denver followed.
Before they’d gotten even halfway up the walkway, both Cannon and Armie came to the door, too.
Stalling, Cherry mumbled, “Oh great.”
Denver glanced down at her. “Problem?”
“Why do they have to be here?” She tried to step behind Denver, but he turned with her, keeping her in his sights.
“Cannon and Armie? What does it matter?”
“I look like death on a bad hair day.”
Smiling, he bent and kissed the bridge of her nose. “I think you look cute.”
Right. “No makeup, hair destroyed, clothes frumpy—”
All too seriously, he said, “Eyes big and dark, cheeks all pink.” His gaze dropped to her chest and he frowned. “But I probably should have found your bra for you to put on.”
“Denver.” Given the gravelly roughness of her voice, her censure sounded like a growl. She crossed her arms around herself and glared at him. “Now I’m going to feel self-conscious about that, too!”
He searched her face. “Other than that, how do you feel?”
His continued concern and understanding humbled her. “Tired, even though I’ve slept endlessly.”
“Come on.” He stepped behind her and nudged her forward. She felt both Armie and Cannon looking her over as she went up the walkway. Or more like she dragged herself. She would have loved to pick up the pace, put some spring in her step.
Instead, it seemed putting one foot in front of the other took all her concentration.
Everyone stepped back to let them enter.
“Damn, Cherry,” Armie said with sympathy. He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Feeling worse?”
“Better, actually.”
Cannon’s hand went to her forehead next. “Sorry, but no one’s going to believe that with your red eyes and nose.”
Freaking great. She stepped out of reach and clutched the railing of the stairs leading down to her part of the house.
Cannon asked Denver, “She has that bug that’s been going around?”
