“She didn’t attack me,” Kleo says. “She slapped me.”
I shove both hands into my pockets to keep myself from touching her. “Did you call the sheriff?”
“No, I didn’t,” she snaps, backing away from us. “I’m fine, and I’d appreciate not being treated like a child who can’t protect herself.” Turning on her heel, she marches up to the house and slams the door so hard it rattles the metal shutter I just hung.
“Sorry for pissing her off and leaving you to deal with her,” Judson says, rubbing the back of his neck.
I shrug and grab another metal shutter. “Who else saw Laura hit Kleo?”
“Moe, Daisy, Simon, your mom…a hell of a lot of people.”
“Good. Maybe one of them will report it so Kleo doesn’t have to. Laura shows up here again, and I will call the sheriff. Even if Kleo doesn’t want me to.”
“I know you probably don’t know why they don’t like each other.”
“Actually, I do,” I say as I slide another shutter into place. I step to the side so Judson can put the last shutter up on the front of the house.
“Kleo told you?”
I nod. I don’t tell him why she told me—that she’s been having nightmares—because it’s hers to share should she choose to.
“Fucking asshole, Dean. I wanted to kill him. Probably would have if I hadn’t been stopped.”
“She said you went through a window with him. Too damned bad he didn’t land on a piece of glass.”
“Too damned bad,” Judson agrees. “She’s strong, but there are moments where she loses herself. I’m fairly sure the last two years have been her trying to forget.”
I don’t say anything because I sense Judson needs to vent. To walk in and find some asshole assaulting your baby sister—I don’t have siblings, but I can imagine the rage. The utter helplessness. Hell, I’m two years late to the news, and if the guy wasn’t in jail, I probably would be.
“She’s definitely not coming home for the storm now,” he says with a sigh. “Keep her safe?”
“I will,” I promise. I doubt he realizes just how damn much I mean it, but I do.
I’ll protect her from the storm and anything else that comes her way.
Kleo
Chin resting on the railing encircling the top of the lighthouse, I stare out over the ocean. Waves as far as I can see are kicked up by the force of the wind, the storm getting closer and closer to shore. My hand burns, but I was able to stop the bleeding with some extra pressure and got it rewrapped.
I glance over at the knuckles of my other hand, still red from their impact with Laura’s face.
“Home-wrecking whore.” As if it was my fault. As if I wanted that asshole to put his hands on me. As if I asked for my world to be turned upside down. I hate that it happened, but I refuse to feel guilty anymore.
I’ve spent enough time beating myself up.
“Hey.”
I glance over at Dean as he finishes climbing the ladder and walks over, taking a seat beside me.
“Hey.”
“I got the house all boarded up. Judson helped out.”
I purse my lips and continue staring out over the ocean. “He still here?”
“No. Said he needed to get home to help your dad out. Listen, I know you aren’t helpless. After all, you nearly killed me with a battery organizer.”
I smirk, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You did. But you have to understand that people care about you, Kleo. They care whether you’re okay. And having people check up on you, having people who want to protect you—it’s not a weakness.”
“You just used the word ‘people’ three different times.”
He laughs softly. “I’m not great with words.”
I turn my head to look at him, not surprised to see him watching me. “You one of them?” I ask.
He looks away, and I hold my breath, waiting for an answer. It surprises me how badly I want him to say yes. We’ve known each other nearly our entire lives, but in the last few days, we’ve grown closer even as we were both determined to push the other aside.
Less than a week ago, this started as a war between us. And at some point in the last few days, we joined the same side. Was it my nightmare? My confession?
“Yes.” He turns back to me. “I do care about you.”
“Why?”
Dean shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
“Does it not feel weird though?” I ask. “Less than a week ago, I wanted to smother you with a pillow.”
“And now?”
I shrug. “I feel less like doing it.”
Dean laughs. “Glad you never followed through on that urge.”
I smile. “Summer isn’t over yet.”
“No,” he agrees, meeting my gaze. “It’s not.” The wind picks up, and Dean gets to his feet. “We need to get inside before this thing hits.”
“Probably not a bad idea.”
Dean reaches down, and I grab his hand so he can help me to my feet. As I do, my foot catches on the railing, and I slam into him, knocking us both into the side of the lighthouse. I’m pressed against him, my body molded to his. My breath catches as I look up at him, my gaze meeting his as it drops to my lips.
For a brief second, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. If for one beautiful moment, I might get to feel Dean’s lips on mine again. The boy I had a crush on nearly all through high school but could never admit it to anyone but myself because I was a coward, afraid of losing my useless social standing. Basically, teenage me was a dumbass.
“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, straightening.
“Sorry, foot got caught.”
Dean doesn’t reply, just nods and begins to climb down the ladder. I’m just gripping the top rung when the sky opens and rain pours down on us. Nervous, because who wants to be climbing a metal ladder in a storm, I move slowly, taking care not to slip.
I nearly make it to the bottom when a cannon goes off. Not really, of course, but that’s the only way I can describe the angry boom of thunder. It jolts me enough that I miss the rung and fall back into Dean, who catches me as if I weigh nothing.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “You always seem to be catching me before I fall and make a huge ass out of myself.”
He sets me down without a word, and I find myself between his large body and the exterior wall of the lighthouse. I shouldn’t like feeling caged in. Typically I don’t, but here in front of Dean—I want nothing more than to have him surround me.
“We need to get inside,” he says, gripping my hand. I thread my fingers through his, and we run back up the path to the camp as rain drenches us. By the time the main cabin comes into view, the sky is nearly black, and we’re completely soaked.
Quickly, we climb the porch steps and turn to survey the muddy ground. I glance over at Dean. His T-shirt sticks to his skin, the planes of muscle easily visible through the drenched cotton. I can still feel his arms around me, his strength, and I wish like hell I would have just admitted how I felt back in school.
Maybe then, he would have been at that party with me.