“It’s cool. I get it, Sienna. But can I just ask?”
“Huh?” I hurried to put on my jeans and shirt.
“Why doesn’t he want you to work?”
“He just… He’s so controlling. He thinks he knows what’s best for me. He was always really overprotective when I was younger. But then the accident happened, and it just changed him. It changed all of us.”
He frowned but nodded. He swiped a thumb across my cheek before pecking me on the lips. “I understand.”
He pulled on his jeans, sliding a clean white T-shirt over his broad, golden shoulders. So simple yet so sexy on him, licks of ink peeking out of his sleeves, his hair tousled and messy. My fingers itched to run through it, to meld myself with him for the rest of the day.
“Ready?” he asked, sending me a charming half grin.
“As I’ll ever be,” I huffed, wishing I could stay right here, snuggled in his bed, and avoid my real life.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Well, I’m doing what I can. Hopefully, I can save enough to move out this summer.”
“Don’t get your own place. Stay with me. This apartment is too big to be alone. Move in with me.”
I studied his eyes watching me, pleading with me to believe him. Somehow, I did. I’d never trusted a man in my life, my dad’s temper stomping all over my feelings one too many times, but I believed River—with every fiber of my being.
* * *
“Sienna!” Anger laced my dad’s voice as soon as I opened the door to my house.
“Shit,” I groaned as I walked into the foyer. “Here, Dad!”
I heard his steps taking the stairs two at a time. “Where the fuck have you been all night? Slutting around with those friends of yours? Are you drunk?”
“Dad! No!” I pushed a hand through my hair. I didn’t know how to talk my way out of this one. “I just stayed at a friend's house last night and watched movies. I fell asleep on her couch. It won’t happen again.”
His eagle eyes searched up and down my body, taking in the rumpled clothes I’d worn yesterday.
“What’s that?” He snatched my wrist and yanked my hand to him.
The hand with the tattoo.
“Permanent marker.” I shrank from his hard gaze. Just one look and this man could turn my stomach into knots. I’d grown up with that feeling taking up permanent residence in my belly, and I was so sick and tired of it.
“Bullshit.” He pulled my finger closer, inspecting. “Another tattoo, Sienna? Another fucking tattoo?”
His hand tightened around my wrist. “Ouch, you’re hurting me.”
“I should have hurt you a helluva lot more when you were a kid. More spanking would have been good for you. Your mother was too soft, and look at her now, fucking useless.” He let go, waving his hand up the stairs to where my mother undoubtedly slept, numb on pills and life.
“Told you last time, girl. Come home with any more ink on your body, and you won’t have a roof to sleep under.”
Anger burned on my cheeks, rage chugging through my veins. “I’m fucking legal, Dad! I don’t have to take this shit from you anymore.”
I spun to run up the stairs, but he caught me, fingers tightening until the pinch made me squeal with pain. “Stop it!”
“Just like your fucking mother,” he snarled, yanking me back down the stairs and making me trip, my head crashing on the edge of the last step and causing pain to bloom instantly in my head.
My vision darkened before everything went utterly silent.
I woke I’m not sure how much longer to George Michael begging me to have faith in my ear.
My phone.
“God,” I moaned, hand to head, the throbbing pain even worse. “Hello?”
“Sienna! Where are you? Are you okay?”
River. My River. My savior.
“I don’t know. My dad… God, my head…”
“What? Are you at home? 57 Payne Street, right?”
“Yes.” I dropped the phone back to the floor, praying this wasn’t a concussion. Praying I could just get out of this house. Praying the only man I wanted there was on his way.
“Sienna!” Pounding on the front door.
“It’s me! Open the door!”
More pounding.
Was that in my head? I wasn’t sure anymore.
“Sienna!”
“Ugh…” I groaned, the cold wooden floors biting into my ass. “Help.”
“Shit.” I heard more banging and then silence. A minute later, the door was open, and River was sliding to his knees.
“How did you get in?”
“Popped the lock with my credit card. How does your head feel?” His hands were on my face, fingers on my wrist checking my heartbeat.