Page 30 of Fragile Lives

“Not you too,” he groans and looks at the ceiling. “Mom has been on my ass for years now.”

“That’s because you’re clearly not getting laid enough.” She switches gears and takes off. “The whole county is terrified.”

“Stop!” he cries out, hiding his face in his hands. “I don’t need sex advice from my twelve-year-old sister.”

Leila lets out a loud snort but doesn’t respond. The atmosphere in the car is light, even though the situation a few minutes ago was anything but. Their sibling bickering worked its magic as usual.

When Kenneth leans his head back on the seat and closes his eyes, I turn to Leila.

“I saw him hitting you. It wasn’t light. Are you really okay?” I ask quietly.

She sends me a brief glance before returning her attention back to the road.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” comes her quiet reply.

I stare ahead, hoping she’s telling the truth. I can still see the moment when he swung at her, and his fist connected with her shoulder. I’m so happy it wasn’t her head because he was nearly three times her size. A hit to her head would be damaging.

When I feel hot eyes on the back of my head, I turn back expecting to meet a judgmental, warning glare, but instead, I see a sad look of understanding.

Everyone in this damn town is toounderstanding. Or is it just the Benson family?

The drive to Little Hope is uneventful—thank fuck. I occasionally throw looks at Leila as she tries to subtly rotate her shoulder. She’s hurt. I know she is. When we’re back, I’ll check on it.

Back at Kenneth’s place, Leila comes inside to use the bathroom. When she’s out of sight, Kenneth walks toward me. I expect another warning because he definitely saw too much, but he surprises me. Again.

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.” He glances at the bathroom door, looking troubled. “You should go to bed too. Today I saw something I’m not sure how I feel about. I’ll sleep onit before I decide to break your face. Night.” He slaps me on the shoulder and disappears into his bedroom.

I’m not sure how I feel about it either, but it’s not the time to stew in my feelings, so I go to the kitchen and get ice out of the fridge. Leila comes out a minute later and looks around.

“Where’s Ken?”

“Went to bed.”

“Really?” Her forehead wrinkles in surprise as she watches the bedroom door through the hallway.

“Yeah.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Take off your sweater.”

Her brows shoot to the stratosphere, and she lets out a surprised laugh.

“Without foreplay?” Her teeth sink into her lower lip while her cheeks stretch into a smile.

“I need to take a look at your shoulder.” I try my best to hide the pinkening of my cheeks. I bet it went down to my neck. Good thing my tats cover everything.

“Oh.” Now her cheeks turn pink. “I’m fine.”

Smooth move, asshole.I could have played it off with a joke like I usually do, but for some reason, I can’t think straight knowing she’s hurt. Can’t joke. Can’t focus. But her slumped shoulders and worried lip make me reconsider, so I try something new and let the real me show.

“You are not.” I point at the chair. “Please, sit, Leila. I need to see that you’re okay.”

Her neck moves in a rough swallow at my plea, and she decides to obey. She pulls her sweater off, revealing a black cami, the straps of her lacy, red bra showing. I’m nervous, like she’s the first woman I’ve seen in her underwear, but the moment my eyes land on her shoulder, I curse.

“Yeah,” she winces, “he got me a little.”

“A little?” I grab the ice and put it into a bag before covering it with a towel and pressing it to her shoulder. “It’s a huge fuckin’ bruise, Leila.”

Her head whips to face me. “Are you British?”

Hell, I guess I let my accent slip a little. I got too emotional.