Page 50

Story: Wanting Wentworth

“That was Brock?” He spits the question out on a snarl. “That piece of shit is your fiancé?”
“Who did you think it…” Another wave of nausea hits me when I push myself further away from him in an attempt to stand. “How did I get here? Where did you…”
“I fell asleep on the porch again—I know, I know. I’m gonna get eaten by a bear...” Loosening his arm around me, he slides himself out from under me, leaving me sitting on the couch by myself rather than on his lap. Standing over me for a second, Went swipes a hand over his face before sitting on the coffee table in front of me. “I heard something that woke me up—a truck driving past the house on its way around the lake, and…” He stops talking and I can feel his gaze in the dark, roving over my face like he’s trying to decide if he wants to tell me the rest. Finally, he makes up his mind. “I saw you in the passenger seat—some guy behind the wheel. I followed you on foot.”
I stare at him, trying to piece together what he’s telling me. What he must’ve thought. Who I was with and what we were doing. “You thought I let some random guy take me into the woods?” I spit the words at him and he jerks back like I took a swing at him.
“No.” His tone calls him a liar even though he’s shaking his head in denial. “I just— I don’t know who you know and don’t know around here.”
“Barrett Valley has a population of less than five-hundred—I know just about everyone.” I feel my guts twist again but this time its bitterness that makes me feel sick. “Maybe I’m just out here fucking the whole town.”
Why wouldn’t he think that, Kait? You licked the man on your third face-to-face interaction for God’s sake.
His spine jerks straight like I took another swing at him. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Planting my hands on the couch cushion on either side of me, I start to push myself off it with rubbery arms. “I know exactly what you think of me.”
“I doubt that sincerely,” he tells me, that black glare of his pinning itself to mine.
“Fuck you.” The bitterness in my gut shoots through my system, stinging my sinuses, the burn of it bringing on tears. Still struggling to stand, I push the curse through clenched teeth, followed by a harsh, frustrated sound. Before I can even lock my elbows, Went is off the coffee table, kneeling in front of me. Rough, heavy hands drop onto my thighs, easily pinning me in place.
“Okay.” He nods at me in the dark, hands pressed to my thighs, gaze pinned to mine. “Yeah—I thought you were headed off into the woods to… do whatever.” The last of it comes out rough and angry. “I didn’t know who it was and to be honest, I was halfway into the house when something told me to go after you—so, I didn’t question it. I just did it.” Easing up on the pressure he put on my legs, Went sighs in what sounds like relief when I sit here, willing to keep listening on my own rather than knee him in the face and run for the door. “When I saw you laying in the dirt, that piece of shit standing over you… I figured it was just some guy—not the guy you’re supposed to marry because—”
“Because I wouldn’t be fighting off my fiancé.” I finish for him quietly, hating the fact that it makes sense. That Went charged into a situation, headfirst, without understanding what was even happening or why, simply because he saw me hurt and in trouble. “Where is he?”
“I’m not sure.” Rocking back on his heels, Went gives me a stiff shouldered shrug. “Last I saw him was about an hour ago, laying in the dirt behind his truck, on the other side of the lake.”
Flicking a nervous look at the front window that overlooks the lake, I shake my head. “What did you do to him?”
“I bashed his fucking face in—which isn’t even a fraction of what I wanted to do to him.” He must see the look of alarm on my face because he lets out a harsh, frustrated bark. “That asshole was going to rape you—don’t tell me you’re actually worried about him.”
“I don’t care what happens to Brock,” I tell him truthfully. “The only thing I’m worried about is what he’s going to do to get even.” Shaking my head, I fight against the panic that’s starting to build again. “What time is it?”
“About three—three-thirty,” Went tells me, easing himself away from me to replant himself on the coffee table. As soon as he’s no longer in my space, I push myself off the couch, managing to gain my feet before the world starts to tilt on me. “Whoa—” Shooting up straight, Went catches me against his chest before I pitch headlong into the coffee table. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to get home.” Pushing uselessly at the hands he has wrapped around my shoulders, I shake my head, the movement sending my brain on a slow, drunken spin. “I—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his tone making it clear that he’s ready and willing to do whatever it takes to keep me from leaving. “How would you even get there?”
“I can walk.” I say it like he just asked me the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. “It’s only a few miles.”
“Walk.” He repeats it back to me like I’m the stupid one. “You really think I’m going to let you walk home? In the dark? With rapey fiancés and grizzly bears running amok?” He laughs but the sound holds not one ounce of humor. “Yeah… sorry, Sunshine. That’s not happening.”
Before I can tell him I don’t need him to let me do anything, he bends, scooping me off my feet to carry me upstairs.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Wentworth
I carry her down the hall, to the master suite, through it and into the bathroom I’ve been using as my own for the past couple of weeks.
Setting her on the counter between the sinks, I turn away from her to shut the door and turn on the light. By the time I’m turned back around, she’s already trying to stand. As soon as her feet hit the floor, her knees buckle.
“Jesus Christ.” Lunging in her direction, I manage to catch her before she does a faceplant. Holding her against me, I glare down at her. “Yeah—you should totally walk home. Fucking great idea.”
“Let go of me,” she hisses at me through clenched teeth, lifting her hands to dig the heels of them into my pecs. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing but—”
Fitting my hands under her arms, I lift her like a toddler, dropping her ass back on the counter hard enough to clamp her mouth shut.