22. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Reeve
I frown when I crest the hill Monday morning and see a small bundle of limbs in front of the sign at the entrance of the trailer park. A mess of red waves obscures the round, freckled face that's seared into my brain and loves to make an appearance in my dreams almost every night.
As I near closer, she peers up, chin resting on her knees and droopy eyes focused on my car.
Turning in, I pull up beside her, then reach across the car and open the door. She pulls herself up, then heaves her bag onto her shoulder as she ambles toward the car, hands wiping her face as she slides inside.
Once she's buckled in, I reverse and turn back the way I came, eyes flicking toward her every now and then.
She's quiet this morning, and the droopy eyes, along with the darkened bags underneath them, have the frown on my face deepening.
"You okay, Red?" I ask as I shift gears and slow down, wanting to give myself more time with her.
She nods, tucks her hair behind her ear, then glances at me, offering me a weak smile.
"Yeah, just tired."
Running my gaze along the length of her body once she turns away from me again, I take in the black leggings stretched across her thighs, and the same denim jacket she was wearing Saturday night, along with the small heeled black boots that she also had on the other night.
Strange.
I'd have thought she'd be back to her Converse, considering she seems to favor them over any other pair of shoes.
"You could take the day off, you know?" I tell her, as I focus back on the road, although my eyes stray back toward her after a few moments.
She yawns and shrugs. "I'll be okay. I've got enough caffeine in my system to keep me running for the day."
My stomach stirs as I turn off the road toward the clubhouse.
Something's not right today.
As we pull up, she sighs, opens the door, and gets out before sluggishly making her way toward the bar, not even batting an eye at Milo as she walks past him.
He frowns, glancing at her back before turning to me. I shrug, then get out of the car myself.
"Have you pissed her off already?" he asks as he takes a drag of his cigarette.
Shaking my head, I make my way up the steps to stand beside him. Peering through the window, I watch as she rounds the bar, places her bag underneath it, and yawns.
"Hardly spoken to her," I tell him, watching her intently as she leans her elbows on the bar and rests her forehead in the heels of her hands. "She seems… off."
Milo turns, his eyes following my line of sight, and after a minute, he shrugs.
"She looks exhausted."
I nod in agreement, concern stirring inside my stomach again.
Maybe working here over the weekend was too much for her? With the added people, the loud music, and the late nights, but surely she had enough time to recuperate yesterday on her day off?
Milo finishes his smoke, flicks the butt onto the ground, then slaps me on the shoulder as he heads for the double doors, where I follow closely behind.
When we enter the room, Trix is no longer behind the bar, but instead is wiping down the tables in the booths, swaying her hips to the quiet music now rippling through the room.
At the sound of the door closing behind us, she glances over her shoulder and her lips spread wide.
"Morning," she calls out, quickly turning back to her task at hand.
She may sound and be trying to act cheery, but I can tell from the look in her eyes she's anything but.
I've spent the whole day watching her, observing the fake smiles she's flinging in every direction. Analyzing the way she keeps jumping every time someone gets too close, and now my body is coiled tight, anxious and infuriated.
Something's not right, but she's avoided me all day, so I haven't had the chance to pry, and therefore I have no idea what's going on.
It's unlikely she'd tell me anyway.
I even debated messaging my brother to ask him if he knows what's wrong with her, since I know he spent time with her yesterday, but then I remembered him telling me that if she's in trouble, she wouldn't tell him, so I decided against it.
Although, that didn't alleviate my concern. If anything, it heightened it.
Is it possible she's in more trouble and that's why her whole demeanor has shifted?
Or is she really just tired like she said she is?
I watch with narrowed eyes as Garrett sidles up to the bar while her back is turned. And by the way he lifts onto his toes and leans over the wooden ledge, I know he's staring at her ass.
Fury spikes inside me, and I'm slipping out of the booth, making my way toward them, annoyed by his brazen actions, and anticipating what's going to come next.
When she turns around, and uncertainty mars her face as she moves toward him and asks what he wants, my jaw clenches.
He reaches for her face, likely wanting to push the strands of hair falling in front of her eyes behind her ear, but the movement causes her to flinch, and black dots enter my vision as I stride toward them.
Curling my hand around the back of Garrett's neck, I drag him backward and push him away from the bar.
"Get. Lost," I grunt, glaring at him.
My gaze darts to Trix, who's standing there, seemingly frozen, her emerald eyes wide with alarm.
"Are you okay?" I ask, as my eyes dip to her hands, which are twisted together in front of her, while her fingers pick at the paint on her nails.
She gulps, and nods, her lips quirking as her eyes flick to Garrett, then back to me.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
Inclining my head, I spin around and face the rest of the room, ignoring multiple quizzical stares pointed my way.
I remain there for the rest of the night, shooting warning glares at every fucker who approaches the bar, and grumbling at anyone who tries to sit down with me.
It's obvious she's jumpy today, and I don't need to know why because I'll sit here and fend everyone off so she can let her guard down and feel, somewhat, safe.
As the afternoon rolls into evening, and everyone starts clearing out, riding home or heading to their rooms here, I help Trix clean up, letting her do the living room upstairs while I handle all the tables downstairs.
Once she's loaded the dishwasher and turned it on, she exits the kitchen, turning the lights off behind her. She grabs her bag from beneath the bar, then yawns again as she slings it over her shoulder.
She watches me through slitted eyes as I move around the bar, stopping directly in front of her, our shoes brushing against each other.
I lift my knuckles to the underside of her jaw, and she tilts her head back, looking up at me as I stare down at her with concern.
"What's going on, Red?" I ask quietly, my thumb stroking along her chin.
Her eyes close, and she sighs. Lifting her hand and wrapping her delicate fingers around mine, she pulls them away from her face.
"I'm just tired," she mumbles, eyes lazily fluttering back open.
Her fingers twitch in mine, and I wrap my hand securely around hers, tugging her toward me until her head is resting against my chest and my arms circle her body.
Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I feel like she needs comfort. She needs to feel safe and secure, so I'm hoping I can be the one to give her that.
The feeling of her body against mine is foreign, but when she releases a deep breath, and her arms hesitantly slide around my back, it feels right.
She fits perfectly in my arms, like she belongs there.
I rest my head on hers, breathing in her cinnamon scent as I tighten my hold on her, drawing her impossibly closer.
Every rational thought ceases to exist in my mind as I lose myself in her warmth, completely consumed by her scent, lost to the feel of her delectable body pressed into mine.
Peace.
That's what I feel in this moment with her.
Something I haven't felt in an extremely long time.
It's disconcerting, but I welcome it.
Taking another deep breath, she loosens her hold on me, forcing me to do the same, as she takes a step back, then peers up at me.
Placing her hand on my chest, she smiles, eyes glistening.
"Thank you, Reeve."
"Anytime, Trix."
Rolling her lips, she glances away, breaking the bubble we've been encased in. I clear my throat, scratching at the nape of my neck.
"Let's get you home so you can get some sleep," I say, as I spin on my heel and motion with my arm for her to walk past me.
She does, but her steps falter as we near the doors, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth.
"Actually, I'm meeting a friend at the diner. Is it okay if you drop me off there?"
Following her out to my car, I huff, not happy with the fact she's not going straight home since she obviously needs sleep, but I reluctantly agree, unlocking my car so she can get in.