Speeding up, I drive past her and pull over to the curb up ahead. Killing the engine, I hop out and run toward her. Panic jumps up and slaps me when she passes under the streetlight and I see her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong?” I blurt when I reach her. “What’s happened?”
Tears roll silently down her face as she tips her chin up. Haunted eyes stare at me, and bile swims up my throat. I worked hard to release my frustration in the gym, and I was feeling more relaxed by the time Jimmy kicked me out of the place at closing time. But now a fresh layer of stress settles on my shoulders as concern washes over me. If that bastard has hurt her, all bets are off. I will fucking squeeze the life from his pathetic body and not feel a single regret if he is the cause of this. “Did he hurt you?” My eyes quickly skim over her body, checking for signs of injuries.
“Not physically,” she croaks, almost choking on a sob. She shudders before wrapping her arms around her body. Her teeth chatter, and her lower lip wobbles as she sniffles. Carefully, I touch her arm and she’s ice cold.
“Fuck, Kendall. You’re freezing.” I rub my hands up and down her arms before pulling her into my side and circling my arms around her, hoping she siphons some of my body heat. I’m conscious I stink to the high heavens and a fine sheen of sweat coats my skin. But I couldn’t give two shits about that now. Getting her warm, and taking care of her, is all that matters right now. “You’re coming with me.”
I definitely know something is wrong when she mounts no protest, letting me lead her to my truck and helping her into the passenger seat, without uttering a word. I run around to the driver’s side and climb behind the wheel. Turning the engine on, I switch off the stereo and crank the heat to the max. Kendall has her arms wrapped around her middle again, and she’s staring numbly out the window. Reaching over, I grab the seat belt and buckle her in, doing my best not to touch her because she’s clearly upset, and I don’t want to do anything to make it worse.
I drive down the street, past the entrance to my parent’s house, and take a sharp left, turning down the rear lane I use when I’m at the carriage house. Tall oak trees and pine trees border the lane on the right side, towering over the side of our property, affording us complete privacy. The woodland is actually the western side of Palmer Park, which is a large park set over seven hundred and thirty acres with forested areas, an abundance of walking, hiking, and running trails, picnic pavilions, playgrounds, and various athletic fields, as well as a dog park. The stunning views over Pikes Peak from the top are legendary around these parts, and I sometimes go there when I need to be alone or I need space to think.
The truck bounces over bumpy terrain, jostling us a little as I head toward the rear entrance to my house. I slow down as we approach the high wooden gates, pressing the button on my key fob to unlock them. Kendall continues to stare into space as I maneuver my Chevy through the gates and park it on the side of the carriage house. The gates close automatically behind us as I kill the engine and consider my next move. We are far enough away from the main house not to worry about my parents, especially since they rarely come out here, but I won’t take chances with Kendall. So, I hop out and do a quick check of the grounds and the carriage house, ensuring there are no surprises lying in wait.
Once I’m assured the coast is clear, I help Kendall down from the truck and escort her inside before locking the door and throwing my keys, wallet, and phone down on the kitchen counter. For the first time ever, I’m sorry I haven’t done more with this place. I wish I had a fireplace and a proper bathroom so I could light a fire and run her a bath. “Come sit,” I say, steering her over to one of the couches. Gently, I push her down before turning to switch both heaters on to the max. “Stay put.” I run to the bedroom, remove one of my hoodies from the freestanding rail by the wall, and grab the heater from that room before returning to Kendall.
I plug in the third heater, hoping the space warms up quick. “Put this on.” I thrust the hoodie at her, hating the forlorn expression on her face as she clutches it to her chest. At least she has stopped crying. Bending down, I peer into her eyes while brushing the dampness off her cheeks. “You need to get warm, sweetheart. Put this on, and I’ll make you coffee.” I walk toward the tiny kitchenette.
“I need something stronger,” she rasps in a throaty voice that is testament to the tears she’s shed. “I know you have alcohol here.” Kendall knows we drink, and she sometimes buys beer for us. She told West she’d rather we didn’t drink cheap shit that’ll strip the lining from our stomachs, but she doesn’t outrightly condone us getting drunk either. My parents couldn’t give two shits. Honestly, it would be hypocritical of Mom if she did. Our house is an alcoholic’s paradise. Dad has an extensive liquor cabinet he keeps fully stocked. God forbid Mom has a chance at getting sober. I feel zero remorse when I regularly raid Dad’s stash. He knows I take it, and he couldn’t care less.
“I don’t have any Sancerre, but I can go up to the house to get some for you, if you like?”
She stares at me, her eyes blinking excessively. “How’d you know that’s my favorite wine?”
My lips curve at the corners. “I observe everything to do with you.”
“Like that’s not creepy,” she says, fighting a barely there smile.
“I want to know everything there is to know about you. Shoot me if that’s a crime.”
Her eyes well up, and I curse under my breath. I make a move toward her, but she holds up a hand. “It’s fine.” She angrily swipes at the tears leaking from her eyes. “I can’t control my tear ducts tonight, and you’re too sweet.” She offers me a watery smile. “What booze do you have here?”
She slides her arms into the hoodie and zips it up. It swamps her, and she looks so tiny and fragile, and I just want to bundle her up and make everything better. I fucking love seeing her in my clothes, and the usual possessive streak I feel in her presence charges to the fore. I want to lock her away with me and never let her go.
“Vander?”
I snap out of it, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. I can’t believe she’s at my place. Or that it looked like she was coming to me, seeking my help. She has no clue how much this means to me or how much hope it gives me. I hate she’s upset, but I can’t be sorry she’s here. “I’ve got Bud or tequila.” I haven’t had a chance to restock my supplies since West drank me dry on Friday, and I made a further dent in it last night.
“Tequila works,” she says, surprising me. I’ve never known her to be a big drinker.
“How about I make you some coffee for now, and after I shower, we can share the tequila?” I don’t want to leave her alone, but I stink, and I need to change out of my workout clothes.
Her eyes trail my body, from head to toe, and heat spears my flesh in every place her gaze lands. “Okay,” she whispers, pulling her eyes back to mine. “You were at the boxing club? I thought Sundays were your day off?”
I love how she remembers my training schedule. “They are, but I needed to let off some steam, so I went a few rounds in the ring with Crusher.” I switch the Keurig on before removing a mug from the cupboard.