Chapter 6 #2
“Not staff accommodation?” Usually the recruits jump at the opportunity for free lodgings all summer. Most of the staff are into watersports and spend their downtime at the beach.
She shakes her head. “I’m at Duneview.”
“Doris’ place?” I cock my head to the side, wondering if I’ve misheard her.
“Yeah. You know her?” She asks.
“Everyone knows Doris. I didn’t think she rented her house out though,” I reply.
“She doesn’t. I’m staying there for free. I’m family.”
I stumble, catch myself, turn towards her. I’m sure the look on my face is a picture. “You’re Doris’ family?” I don’t mean to sound so incredulous but…no way. Old Doris doesn’t have any family.
“Mmm-hmm. She’s my grandma.”
“I didn’t know she had any family.” We’ve spent the best part of all our summers terrorising the old bat. We’d know if she had backup.
“Apparently you’re not the only one around here.” She laughs, but there’s something bitter in her voice.
A protective instinct surges through me, fast and unexpected.
I wonder what, or who, she’s talking about. Maybe she’s met the twins already? Surely they would have said something though.
“Well, I’m visiting next door, so consider it my responsibility to ensure you get home safely,” I state firmly.
I offer her my arm, half habit, half instinct, trying not to crowd her. The moment her fingers brush my forearm, something inside me tightens. It’s fleeting, her scent still masked, but my alpha instincts sharpen.
However, my protective demeanour shifts as she winces.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a touch of concern in my tone as I turn to face her.
“Nothing. I just jostled my wrist.” I recall the idiots earlier and realise that she’s trying to downplay the pain.
The one that bastard grabbed. My jaw clenches. It’s been hours, and she’s still in pain? Fuck. I should have done more. I should have ripped his damn hand off.
“The one that the scumbag grabbed?” I demand, my blood simmering at the thought of someone hurting her to such an extent.
Hours have passed, and she’s still in pain – a pain that should never have been inflicted upon her.
The anger builds within me, and I regret not taking more drastic action against him earlier, no matter the consequences.
“Nailed it. Yes.” She manages a weak chuckle, but her pain is evident, and it only fuels my anger further.
How could she endure such pain all night, carrying heavy plates without a moment’s respite? I feel like such a jerk for getting her to show us to our table when we could have waited and she should have had it checked out, or iced at the very least.
I release her arm but stop short in front of her without thinking. I won’t let this slide. As I tower over her, my height emphasising my protective stance, I can’t help but feel a mix of anger and concern. I need to see the extent of the damage he caused.
“Show me,” I demand, sharper than I mean to, and the edge in my voice surprises even me.
“It’s fine,” she tries to brush it off, but I won’t be deterred.
“Lani,” I say, softer this time. “Just let me see. Please?”
She hesitates, but my unwavering gaze convinces her to comply. “It’s dark. You won’t see anything,” she protests.
“I don’t care. Show me,” I assert, my concern and protectiveness taking precedence over everything else.
With a resigned sigh, she finally reveals her injured wrist. Even in the dim light, I can see the bruising, the way her fingers tremble slightly. A growl rumbles in my throat before I can stop it, something sharp and ugly flaring in my chest.
“This is unacceptable,” I say through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” I say, immediately regretting how harsh it comes out.
She blinks at me, startled. I need to rein it in. I’m pushing too hard.
Cringing, I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down.
I’m not mad at her, I’m mad for her. But I shouldn’t be taking out my own frustrations – anger, guilt, regret – on her.
“Sorry. I just meant that it looks sore, and I think it’s sprained.
It’s not okay. That should never have happened to you. ”
She bites her lip but doesn’t argue. What is there to say? My anger towards the perpetrator intensifies, but I try to focus on the present.
It’s too quiet. Her scent is still muted, but I can’t help but wonder what she actually smells like without whatever she’s using. Probably something light. Clean. Forgettable.
“Let’s get you some ice and check if there’s anything more we can do,” I say, shifting my focus to a more constructive channel.
This time I place my hand on the small of her back, keeping her tucked in close, my scent curling around her without me meaning it to.
Even without touching her skin, the warmth of her presence settles into me, deeper than it should.
I guide her up the hill to her grandmother’s house, but all the while, my heart and my head are warring.
There’s something in my chest that keeps nudging at me to stay alert. To pay attention. It’s the same instinct that’s kept me out of trouble my whole life – and gotten me into it just as often.
There’s also a voice in my head that tells me Lani could be useful, could be the key we need to finally get through to Old Doris. After all, Lani’s just passing through this small town. She’ll be leaving soon enough, no harm done.
But as we reach her grandmother’s house, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing to stay and protect her. To make sure nothing ever touches her again. To know she’s behind a locked door tonight instead of out here dealing with people like that.
It’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. I don’t care about chicks. Ever. Not like this. Not with this kind of bone-deep urgency. This has to be down to the blonde from last night getting my head all messed up.
Watching her walk up the steps, I realise it isn’t just the blonde from last night messing with my head. It’s Lani.
I shake myself, like that can snap me out of it. This isn’t me. I don’t chase. I don’t attach. And we haven’t even had a night together, for fuck’s sake.
But when she turns back and gives me that small, uncertain smile, I know I’m not going to be able to just walk away.
“I think I can handle the ice myself from here,” she says.
I want to argue with her, to insist she let me make sure she’s warm, that she isn’t still shaking from the cold, but I also don’t want to be a domineering asshole. I nod. “If you’re sure.”
“It’s late. I’m sure you have plans. I should get to bed.”
“If you’re sure,” I say again, sounding like a damn record stuck on repeat.
“I am. Thank you, though, Finn.”
My name in her mouth makes my muscles tense, my body reacting before my brain catches up.
“Goodnight, Lani.” I wait until she’s inside the house before I start walking back down the drive.
I could just hop the fence to next door, but I feel like I need a moment alone to get my emotions back in line.
Need to shake off the imaginary hold she has on me, the way it’s settling under my skin, lingering in a way that pisses me off more than it should.
The night air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to calm the heat that’s risen in my body.
I pull out the single cigarette from my pocket and light it, taking a deep drag as I try to sort out my thoughts.
My father abhors smoking so I have to hide it from him, but I can’t get through an evening in his company without needing to smoke.
It’s a crutch – an unhealthy one at that – but luckily I’m free of him for three months after tomorrow.
This will be my last one until he returns.
As the smoke fills my lungs and I let out a long exhale, I watch the tendrils drift up towards the star-studded night sky.
Did I tell Lani my name? I’m almost sure I didn’t.
But then maybe she heard my father or one of his friends use it in the restaurant.
I sigh. That’s wishful thinking. Lani may have looked at me like she didn’t have a clue who I was, but I’ve been duped by actresses before.
And once she laid eyes on my father, it would have become clear who I am.
Disappointment rises in place of my other emotions, unwelcome and unjustified.
I tell myself it’s about manners. About not liking bullies.
About being raised better than my father.
Anything but the vague, uncomfortable pull I don’t have a name for yet – and don’t intend to find one for unless I have to.
I take another drag, letting the nicotine calm my nerves. I’ve always been good at compartmentalising, at keeping my emotions in check. But for some reason, Lani is different.
I hope she’s as genuine as she seemed, and that her knowledge of my name comes from an innocent reason.
I finish my cigarette and flick it away, watching as it sizzles out on the ground. Disgusting habit. Another thing my father would sneer at. I can’t wait to quit.
I know I shouldn’t get too attached. Lani is just passing through, and I have commitments. Expectations. A future mapped out in someone else’s ink. A ticking time bomb attached to a noose around my neck. My father would say Lani’s the help. She’s not the girl for me.
Whatever she is, she’s tempting. Too alone for someone like her – the idea of that sits wrong in my chest.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than apathy towards a woman.
Or maybe I just don’t recognise what this is yet.
That should probably unnerve me more than anything.