“Jesus Christ,” Jackson mutters through the line. “He must have come in through the backyard. I’ll get some people in there to take fingerprints and clean the place up. Anything missing?”
“I don’t fucking know!” I shout into the phone. “He left another goddamn note. I didn’t feel like sticking around to check the place out. I just wanted to get her out of there.”
“Do you want me to follow you guys and let someone else take care of the house?” he asks.
“No. I’ve got it under control tonight. Just find this motherfucker.”
I end the call, tossing my cell back into the cup holder.
The sight of Phina lying in the middle of my bed does things to me. Girly things. Pussy things. Definitely not manly things. She’s curled up on her side with her hands under her cheek and my heart fucking melts as I sit on the edge of the bed staring at her. When I got her to my place, she woke up long enough to let me force a glass of water and a couple of aspirin into her before she passed out again and I carried her to my room.
Leaning over her, I smooth her hair off of her face and press my lips to her temple, closing my eyes and breathing her in.
I move my lips away, replacing them with my forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
She sighs and I lean back a little to look at her face, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
“I loved you. I really, really loved you,” she mumbles in her sleep.
I smile sadly down at her, wishing more than anything that I could go back fifteen years and not drink one drop of alcohol that night at the party.
“You have no idea how in love with you I was back then,” I whisper back, running my hands softly through her hair.
“I just wanted to be good enough for you. He always said I wasn’t good enough for anyone before he’d push his cigarette into my skin. I wanted to be good enough for you to remember,” she mumbles, burrowing herself deeper into my pillow.
That motherfucking piece of shit.
I want to take all of her clothes off right this minute and find the scars that pathetic piece of shit left on her body. I want to kiss each and every one of them and tell her she’s better than anyone I’ve ever met and that shit should have never been done to her. I think about how she refused to let me take her underwear off that night with Dax and the idea that her own father left marks on her on any part of that covered area fills me with rage. I remember how panicked she was this morning in the park when she woke up to find her pants pulled down and now the words she said to me make complete sense. She was afraid I’d seen what he did to her. She’s so strong and fierce and I know it would have killed her for me to see something like that – the one time in her life when she couldn’t fight back and a permanent reminder of what she went through.
I take a few deep breaths, pushing my anger aside for the time being.
“Oh, Fireball, I always remembered. I was just too stupid to see it. How in the fuck could I ever forget? And you are more than good enough, dammit.”
She smiles in her half-asleep state.
“I hate that I still love you,” she murmurs.
My hand pauses with my fingers tangled in her hair. I want to shake her awake. I want her to open her eyes and look at me when she fucking says something like that. Jesus Christ, she probably won’t even remember she said this shit to me tomorrow, and it’s exactly what I deserve.
Placing another kiss on the top of her head, I pull my shirt off as I get up from the bed and toss it over into the dirty clothesbasket. I do the same with my pants before turning off the lamp on the bedside table and walking around the bed to climb in under the covers behind her. Sliding one arm under her neck and wrapping the other around her waist, I pull her back against me and let every inch of her body mold against mine. I bury my face into her hair and close my eyes.
“I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise her quietly in the dark room.
The smell of bacon and eggs makes my stomach growl, but I’m so warm and comfortable in bed that I pull the covers tighter around me and keep my eyes closed. I hear humming coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom and my eyes fly open. I bolt up in bed, looking around the room frantically.
This is not my bedroom and this is definitely not my bed. The sheets smell like DJ and I groan, dropping my head and cursing myself.
What in the hell did I do last night? I remember going to McCallahan’s and drinking myself silly, but everything after that is fuzzy. Shit, I think I might have yelled at DJ and told him about what happened in high school.
Fuck, I am never drinking again.
Pulling the covers up, I glance down at myself nervously, hoping to God DJ didn’t undress me. There are only so many truths that need to come out in one night, thank you very much. Thankfully, I’m still wearing clothes. The only thing missing are my boots.