Levi
Twenty-Three
Ipull the truck into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires as they come to a stop.
Oakley unfolds her legs from beneath her and unbuckles her seatbelt as I throw the gearshift in park and climb out, rounding the front and opening the door for her.
She glances up at me and gives me a tired, grateful smile before grabbing her backpack from the floorboard and hopping down.
She gazes up at the house while I retrieve her other bag from the bed of the truck. Slamming the tailgate shut, I join her at the front of the truck, standing next to her and letting her soak it all in before heading for the front door.
A glance behind me confirms she’s not following. Instead, she stands stockstill on the gravel, gazing up at the house, a guarded yet inquisitive look gracing her delicate features.
“You coming?” I call behind me as I fit the key into the lock.
Normally, I wouldn’t care if she stood outside all night and stared, but it’s late, and I’m not altogether convinced that the danger for her has passed.
There was nothing in that motel room to indicate who could have done this, but, with a past like hers, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of her ex being responsible.
I don’t want her out in the open any longer than necessary.
I’m not willing to gamble with her safety like that, not when I promised her otherwise.
My words pull her out of her stupor, and she closes the distance between us as I push through the front door, flipping on the light switch as I cross the threshold.
The door closes softly behind me, and the smell of her wafts over me from the breeze.
I inhale deeply, savoring the hint of lavender, loving the way it fills the entryway like it’s trying to soak itself in the walls.
The sound of clacking nails against hardwood sounds from the kitchen, and I look up in time to see Bandit bound towards us, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail going a mile a minute.
“Hey, buddy.” I smile and bend to greet him, but he sprints past me without a second glance and collides with Oakley. She lets out a surprised chuckle, and I try not to take offense.
I’d run straight for her, too, if I were you.
My smile widens at the mass of black and brown fur wiggling furiously against her tanned legs.
Bandit’s looking up at her like she hung the moon, and a wide smile cracks across her face as she drops her bag and kneels down to greet him.
Of course, this sends him into even more of a frenzy as he jumps up and licks her face repeatedly, drawing a squeal of delight from her perfect lips.
He does it again, and she laughs, tangling her hands in his soft fur, giving him all the love and attention he’s looking for.
Geez, you’d think I ignored the beast every day with the way he’s panting for attention.
Again, I get it.
“Alright, settle down,” I say in my best dog dad voice, and Bandit settles a little, though he’s still trying to lick her face and spin around in circles at the same time.
Not the brightest pup, but it’s fucking adorable all the same.
“Bandit!” I scold, though I’m not seriously mad. “Let the poor woman in, would ya?”
“I don’t mind. It looks like someone missed me, huh, bud?” Her voice goes up high when she directs her question at my dog, and again, it’s adorable.
Bandit seems to enjoy the attention too. His back end has a mind of its own as it wiggles all over the place. Oakley laughs again as she stands, picking her bag up off the floor.
“Sorry about him. We don’t get many visitors.”
“It’s no bother. Honestly, I think it’s exactly what I need after… everything.” Her eyes start to get that faraway look in them again, and I can’t have that.
“Come on. I’ll give you a tour.” I motion for her to follow me down the hall, and she does without question, Bandit on her heels before skidding to a stop in the middle of the open kitchen.
My home is nothing special, but it’s mine, and I love it for all it is.
I’m still adjusting things here and there, but it’s mostly cosmetic at this point.
I renovated it the way I like, doing the majority of the work myself, with a lot of help from Justin along the way.
He does a lot of home repairs and improvements on the side, and there’s no way I could have made this place what it is without his help.
Once upon a time, he wanted to open his own contracting company, but I guess it wasn’t in the cards for him.
I round the large kitchen island and place the duffel bag on the butcher block countertop before turning to the fridge and opening the door.
“You hungry? I have…” I turn back to the fridge, and my face drops when I notice all the empty shelf space, save for some beer, water, and salad dressing that is most definitely expired.
I can’t even remember the last time I ate a salad.
“Water. I have water. Or beer! You want a beer?” I’m rambling.
“I’ll take some water, if that’s okay.”
I grab two from the shelf and hand one to her.
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Huh?”
“I offered you a water. Why wouldn’t it be okay if you took one?
” There’s a teasing tone to my question, but I’m genuinely curious to hear her answer.
I have a feeling she’s been made to feel like it’s not okay for her to take up space, and I am dead set on remedying that. Maybe she needs a little calling out.
“Oh, I, um… just being polite, I guess.” She shrugs and looks down at her feet awkwardly.
Stepping in front of her, I put my index finger under her chin and slowly lift her face so I can capture those blue-gray eyes. Her breath catches in her throat, and I try not to smirk.
“House rule number one: What’s mine is yours. You wanna cook something or watch a movie? Go for it. You wanna change the paint in the bathroom because you hate it? I’ll show you where the brushes are.”
Her shoulders visibly relax, and she lets out a little laugh, but I am dead serious.
“You don’t have to ask. I want you to feel at home here, okay?”
“Okay,” she concedes, and her shoulders relax as more of the tension melts from her body. “I’m sure the paint in the bathroom is just fine.”
I grin and turn back to the cabinets, opening a few and trying to remember when I last did a full shopping trip.
It’s been a while. It’s only me here, and most nights, recently, I find myself at the bar with the guys.
I don’t cook much for myself anymore, but there’s gotta be something in here that I can whip up for her. She’s probably starving.
“You might not be saying that when you actually see it. I haven’t gotten a chance to repaint it yet. But I meant what I said. If you want to change anything or use anything, just do it. You don’t have to ask.”
“So if I want to knock down this wall right here…” I look over my shoulder to see her running her hand along the kitchen wall that separates the space from the living room, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, open concept is very in right now.” She cocks an eyebrow.
“Alright, maybe we ask before we start knocking walls down. Seems like something that needs supervision. Plus, that one’s load-bearing, so best to leave it be.”
I turn back to the cabinet, and after a little more digging, find an unopened box of pasta and a jar of tomato sauce. I check to make sure it isn’t expired before holding both out in front of me in question. “Pasta? Sorry, I don’t have much. I’ve been meaning to run to the grocery store.”
“Pasta sounds perfect.” Her stomach rumbles loudly from where she’s standing, and she gives an embarrassed laugh. “Apparently, I am famished.”
I set a pot of water to boil and pull out a smaller pot for the sauce. Dumping the contents of the jar into the smaller pot, I place it on the burner and set it to warm.
“Let me show you your room.” I grab her duffel off the island and head for the staircase through the living room, the sound of her footsteps following me up to the second floor.