Chapter 5
Chapter five
Reeve Hardy
Iris — Goo Goo Dolls
Her fiery-orange waves sway gently and bounce against the freaky moth tattoo on the right side of her neck. I carry Winona through the buzzing forest, carefully navigating between thorny bushes and climbing the hill to her new home.
Memories drag me under their clutches as I go.
I told Winona to head straight to her home while I take care of her little stalker problem that she knows nothing about.
I fucking hate that clown.
I turn around as a motorcycle speeds my way, trying to run me over.
I move aside, and with a bored expression, I yank him off his bike and toss him onto the road.
The bike screeches against the asphalt while the college kid whimpers from the impact of the fall, but it is soon replaced with sickening laughter.
“I see the looks you’re giving her. She doesn’t want you,” he provokes me, flicking up the visor of his helmet.
“I can say the same about you,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets, my fingers brushing against my pocket knife. “But it wouldn’t make a difference. You just crave the attention.”
“I do.” He lies on his back, crossing his legs at the ankles and propping his head on his folded arm. “I touch her every chance I get, bodyguard, you’re not gonna come between us.”
The thought alone has my emotions in overdrive. I hate every word he says, but I don’t let it show. I smirk as he keeps talking.
“She’s not innocent, man, she’s touchy.” He sighs playfully as if extracting the joy from his own trash talk. “Seductive as hell, hot naked. Her tattoos… damn, those are a work of art. That girl is something else.”
That girl…
I will fucking nail the screws to his coffin with my bare hands.
“I’m just saying. You’re playing a game you’ve already lost.”
“Are you hallucinating again, Larson? Are you high? Because she’s disgusted with you, but you can’t read the room. That’s pathetic. Do you really think she would want someone as useless as you?”
“Who the fuck are you to say?” He jerks upright and hops to his feet, fired up by my words. “You know nothing about our relationship.”
“That you made up in your head,” I retort.
“Fuck you.” His finger of accusation is pointed at me. “She’s going to be mine, and you can’t do shit about it.”
“Follow us again, and I’ll bury you alive.” The fury in my voice echoes even after I finish the words. “Now, get the hell out of here.”
“This isn’t over,” he yells, attempting to lift his bike in hurried movements. It slips from his trembling hand a couple of times before he finally manages to get it upright and drive away.
He’s her only college friend; they take the same classes, and given Winona’s anxiety, she would rather have someone to hang out with on campus than be alone.
At the beginning of the year, a few girls started to hang out with her until they saw her sketches and became hostile toward Winona, so I paid someone to cake their cars with mud for fun.
No one messes with my girl.
Not even a bunch of jealous goblins who can throw themselves into a void and never return.
She’s amazing and spends hours nurturing her skills. Would it kill them to be nice?
Saying I detest college would be an understatement, and I’m just watching from the sidelines. I wish I could do something to help her. I just want to see her happy.
I crack my neck as I walk toward the house, passing the large parking lot near the neighborhood gate, and salute the guards before they let me in.
Pulling my phone out, I text Winona about this asshole who always manages to piss me off, and she leaves it on read.
Brat.
The door clicks behind me as I move through the grand foyer and stop short of the left staircase, glaring at Winona’s back as she takes another step.
“Did Larson touch you?” I’m about to come up with a creative way to send that college kid to the afterlife if he had the nerve.
She turns slowly, leaning against the handrail.
“Don’t bullshit me, Winona. You’ve never been touched.”
Her smile gradually widens, pushing her cheek to the side. I turn around, ready to exit through the front door again and end that conversation because I can’t bear the thought of her being with someone else.
I never attend her classes. I should, but I give her space because, for her entire life, she’s been under someone’s watchful eye. She’s a grown woman and deserves a little break. However, if anyone dares to lay a hand on her, I will tear it off and mail it back to them.
I need to calm down.
Everything about her makes me overly emotional, but I have to suppress it as best as I can.
“I have.” Her smoky voice stops me in place, yet the thrill behind it ignites the demon within me. I listen closely as she descends the stairs and paces toward me.
“Oh, yeah?” I spin to face her, flashing a conceited grin. “How good did he make you feel when he slipped himself inside you?”
She halts abruptly, blinking in surprise at me. My eyebrows rise slightly in question while her tiny frame remains frozen against me.
I gaze into her lying eyes. Waiting. Searching. Scanning the specks of light blue and green that spread across her irises. No story shines through about how she felt or what she experienced.
I master the lowest tone and say, “You don’t know because it never happened. But when it does, your eyes will tell a different story.” I twirl a ginger lock around my finger. “For the record, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I linger closely for a moment, then step away.
“I meant you, Asshole,” she says behind me and runs up the stairs.
Shit.
I go for a stroll around the property, then walk to the security room with a headache that refuses to fade. Screens cover the walls from floor to ceiling in the dimly lit room, and a note rests on the desk.
I immediately recognize her handwriting.
You’re an asshole, but I still want to go for a ride later. Bring some snacks, and I’ll order pizza and garlic bread. Have a great shift, my guardian angel—angel, my ass.
The tired corners of my mouth curve into a smile so broad that it holds my face captive.
I swear she was made to make me smile and feel warmth in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Her adorable hostility does something to me, and I can’t deny the butterflies I feel in my core every time I see her, but I have to pretend they don’t exist because I need to stay in character.
Only Koy, the head of security, and I are allowed in this room, but she can’t help herself, that little brat.
I spend most of my time here when I’m not with her.
It’s either that or the private gym. I hardly sleep because there are too many voices in my head and occasional nightmares that I don’t want to remember.
I only fall asleep when my body stops functioning.
Therefore, sometimes I need to persuade Winona to stay inside and not go out because I’m exhausted, like today.
And she’s being a brat as usual, which makes my heart beat wildly and my soul come alive, but under the circumstances fucking pointless.
Don’t accidentally trip over the pad control. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally cancel all the cameras and locks. Trip, you fucker.
I laugh every time I reread the note from a few nights ago. She could have texted me all those things, but she left these sticky notes here instead. Now, I have a drawer with over a hundred of them.
Koy seems as amused as I am, so I know he wouldn’t snitch. Plus, I think he is secretly happy that Winona has someone to spend her time with—someone protective and trustworthy.
As I rummage through the drawer, a red sticky note catches my eye.
My eyebrows furrow.
I’ve never seen it before.
You try to read me, you don’t try to understand me, and I’m at war inside. I see you, but do you see me?
Reading people is how I get by. It’s a force of habit. Her words are like a shot to the heart; the pain is maddening because it feels real, raw, and makes me want to burn the room down for missing it.
When did she leave it here?
And how could she think I don’t see her?
I see her better than anyone.
I see her all the fucking time, and I can’t do anything about it.
At the beginning, I was just her shadow. We chatted sometimes, but after that party, when I took her for a ride, I let her in more and more.
After the door incident, I considered crossing a line but decided against it.
There’s a camera in her room that is turned off for her privacy, but… I just want to ensure she’s okay.
I breathe deeply, lowering my gaze to the keyboard. I shouldn’t... my fingers hover over it as I hesitate.
No one needs to know.
I press the button I was told not to. Technology isn’t my forte, yet Koy went over the basics with me when I first arrived here.
The black screen transitions to live footage of Winona lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a somber expression on her delicate face.
I sit in front of the screen for an hour, watching the scene unfold over and over again. She looks the same, even worse. It’s like her eyes say she’s given up on her existence.
She’s my guiding light whenever I’m lost and can’t find my way. I focus on Winona. Her soft features and the freckles I count every time I look at her are the sole reason I’m here.
I wish I knew how to make it better for her.
I wish I knew all the answers.
In a swift movement, she stands up, puts her headphones on, and starts dancing without a care in the world.
When I look at her now, our story rages in her eyes, flashing violently. It consumes everything she is and burns deep in her soul. And I did it. I created that void. I should’ve just left her alone. But… I couldn’t.