26. Scarlet
TWENTY-SIX
SCARLET
“Are you sure you don't mind driving me home?” I ask Clint for the hundredth time.
In hindsight, I regret agreeing to the ride. I’m exhausted and just want to go home and—holy shit, when did I start thinking of Ellis’s as home? I’ve only been there one weekend.
“Wouldn't have offered if I minded.” He inclines his head toward the west parking lot. “I'm over here.”
“Well, thanks, again.” I scan the lot, feeling apprehensive being out here in the open. “I really appreciate it.”
“I can't even imagine how you're feeling.” He stops in front of a cherry-red Impala. It's older but clearly cared for.
“It's... honestly, I'm just tired.” I shrug, and it feels like the weight of the world settles on my shoulders. I skim my fingers over the hood. “Wow, this is nice.”
Clint beams like I just told him he won a million bucks. “Thanks. She's my pride and joy.”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Spoken like a dude.”
He shrugs before opening the passenger door for me. “A guy's gotta have his hobbies.”
“That they do.” It makes me wonder what Ellis's hobbies are—you know, other than TV. It’s sort of mind boggling when I think about how long I’ve known him but how little I actually know him.
Even more surprising, I actually want to know all of these little things about him now. Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he’s carved out a place for himself in my heart.
“What's the address?” Clint asks, turning the key in the ignition. The growl of the engine snaps me back to the present, and I rattle off his address.
He plugs it into his GPS and backs out.
Neither of us speak as he pulls out of the parking lot onto the service road, but the quiet in the car isn't the comfy kind like with Ellis. It's awkward and heavy... tense. But it might just be me. God knows, I'm not good company after the day I've had.
Clint breaks first. “So, how long have you worked here?” he asks, as he merges onto the highway.
“Going on five years. I started right out of school.”
“Is this where you see yourself for the foreseeable future?”
I tilt my head to the side as I try to digest his question.
I love my job. It's rewarding and the hours are great, but I wouldn’t call it my dream job.
But I also don’t know what my dream job would be.
“Yeah,” I finally say, because I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do in place of it. “I think so. What about you?”
“I'm not entirely sure,” he confesses, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to a tune only he can hear. “Working at the bar used to be fulfilling. But here lately, I find myself wanting something... more.”
“What made you apply here?”
He flicks his eyes my way. “My rent went up, and I needed to supplement my income. It was a toss-up between here and the hospital. I went with the one that replied first.”
“Gotcha.” I lay my head against the window, hissing as the cool glass kisses my face. “Well, on the bright side, good hours and great benefits.”
He nudges me with his elbow. “Coworkers are alright, too.”
I scoff, forcing a smile. “Excuse you. We are more than alright, sir.”
“Maybe.” His shoulders lift in an almost imperceptible shrug. “I'm off tomorrow, but if you need a ride...”
“Oh, that's sweet,” I say as the GPS announces his destination is just ahead on the left. “But I've got it handled. Thank you though, truly.”
I swear a muscle ticks in the side of his cheek as he clenches his jaw, but before I can ask what's wrong, he's smiling over at me. “Shoot me a text if anything changes.”
I promise I will before unbuckling my seatbelt. “Thanks Clint. I really appreciate you being there for me today.”
“That's what friends are for, right?”
“Right.” I nod once and climb out of the car. “See you Wednesday.”
He waves and then puts the car into reverse. “See you.”
Ellis opens the door just in time to see Clint’s car swing out into the road. “Who was that?” he asks, his voice tight. I’d almost say he sounds jealous, but surely that’s not what’s happening here...
“Clint. He’s a new hire. Part of the maintenance crew.” I shift my bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond ready to be out of these scrubs and off my feet. “You actually know him.”
“Do I?” Ellis’s brows furrow, no doubt trying to recall the how and where of it all.
“Yeah.” I rock back on my heels. “He's a bartender at The Creek.”
Ellis mutters something under his breath.
“What was that?” I ask, both out of curiosity and to needle him a bit. What can I say—I can’t resist the urge. Maybe a small part of me finds comfort in getting under his skin.
“Just don't like him.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his lip curled in a snarl.
“I'm going to be really honest with you, Sunshine. It has been a dumpster fire of a day, and I really don’t have the energy for whatever metaphorical dick measuring contest this is.”
“No contest.” He puffs out his chest. “Mine's bigger.”
“Ellis.” My voice cracks. “Please.”
“Shit.” He opens his arms wide. “C'mere, Princess.”
I step into him, and he wraps his strong arms around me, effectively melting away my annoyance. “Let's get you fed and then into a bubble bath.”
I sigh and lean further into him. “A bubble bath sounds heavenly.”
“You can use my tub. It has jets.”
“Thanks Ellis.” I step out of his arms and head inside. “I appreciate you.”
A thought occurs as I cross the threshold. “Oh my god! How was your first day?”
“Really fucking good.” He grins, and it lights up his entire face. “I didn’t actually do much, just helped with custody drop offs and ran background checks, but it was nice being able to actually help people, you know? I got you some goodies, too.”
“Me?” I ask, wondering what in the heck he could’ve possibly gotten me.
“Mmhmm.” He ushers me into the living room. “Get comfy, and I'll grab everything. We can talk about it while we eat.”
I’m tempted to change but Ellis mentioned a bath, so I nestle myself into the corner of the couch, drawing my feet up under me as I settle in to wait.
“Chicken salad on a croissant with chicken and wild rice soup,” he says, setting a tray down onto the center cushion with flourish.
“Thank you.” I grab the croissant and take a ravenous bite. “So, what are these so-called goodies you speak of?”
“For starters, I bought an alarm system, new cameras, and a gate. I'm having everything installed tomorrow.”
My eyes widen with each item he rattles off. “And you did all of this for... me?”
“Baby girl, I don't think you realize how serious I am about keeping you safe.” He leans forward bracing his elbows on his knees. “So, I need you to keep an open mind for this next part.”
“There's more?” Butterflies swarm inside of me. This man is literally turning his home into a fortress to keep me safe. I can’t think of a single other person who would be this dedicated to protecting me. Mind, blown.
“Yup.” He pops the last bite of his food into his mouth and washes it down by chugging half a bottle of water.
“A few things. Let's start small...” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a key on a pink chain.
“The new lock is actually biometric, but this key works, too. We'll get your fingerprint set up in it tomorrow after it’s installed.”
I take the key from him and gasp, running my fingers over the embroidered design. “Princess?”
His lips curl in small, satisfied smile. “It's perfect right?”
I nod, because it really is. And as sad as it sounds, it’s quite possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.
I try to thank him, but a garbled sob slips out instead, making me want to crawl in a hole to hide.
My freaking god, how pathetic am I that I'm tearing up over a keychain.
Could you be any more desperate, Scarlet?
“Now, keep riding that high for me, ’kay?”
The endorphins racing through me take a nosedive. “Not gonna lie, you're making me nervous.”
“Well, look at us on the same page, because I am also nervous.”
My nostrils flare as I exhale sharply, sinking deeper into the corner of the couch. “This is so not helping.”
He reaches down, drawing my attention to a bag on the floor at his feet. He fishes around in it and pulls out a small pouch containing four small disc-shaped objects. “These are trackers. Ideally, I'd like to put one in your car, one in your bag, and the other two in your shoes.”
Holy shit, this is... intense. I swallow around the lump of emotion clogging my throat as I try to process what he’s saying. “A tracker? Like GPS?”
“Yup.” He nods once—all business, like this all makes perfect sense. Which is bonkers, because none of this makes sense. Why is this happening to me?
“Why?” The answer’s obvious but I ask anyway.
“If shit hits the fan, I want to be able to find you, Scar.” He moves the tray to the coffee table, scooches closer, and takes my hands in his. “The thought of someone taking you is... unbearable. So, please, please humor me here.”
“You're really worried?” I ask, my voice wobbling.
“You think he'll try to t-take me?” Flashbacks of Nora being snatched from my car flash through my brain like a highlight reel from hell. Sure, I didn’t see it happen, but my incredibly active imagination has filled in the gaps in a million awful and creative ways.
“I can't predict the future, but I can damn sure make sure we're prepared for every possible scenario.”
“Okay,” I whisper. How could I not agree when this man, who only weeks ago hated the very sight of me is now ready to essentially go to war for me.
“Glad to hear it.” His shoulders slump with relief. “I honestly thought this would be harder.” As always, he manages to inject just the right amount of levity.
“Are you calling me difficult, Wilder?”
“If the shoe fits...” He winks. “Speaking of, I also got you this.” He grabs yet another small bag and passes it my way.
“Wow.” I admire the butterfly charm through the plastic before shaking it out into my palm. The thin gold chain is cool against my skin, and the pink wings are almost a perfect match for the keychain he bought me.