She hasn’t told me what he’s done to her, but I know. He was inside of her, tarnishing not only her virginity, but her sanity. Baylee’s different. How could she not be? And I hate what he’s done to her.
I’m lost in my thoughts when she emerges, wearing only a towel. The circumstances are shit, but I can’t help the way my cock thickens at the sight of her. We can finally be together. I’ll finally be able to make love to her, make her feel safe again.
“Do you feel better?” I question with a hoarse voice.
Her eyes meet mine for a brief second before she drops them to the floor. Taking her cue, I walk over to the window to stare out while she dresses.
“You brought my favorite hoodie,” she murmurs softly, ignoring my question. “Thank you.”
She shuffles around behind me dressing, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and watch her. But she’s been through too much. I won’t victimize her too.
“If I remember correctly, it’s my hoodie,” I tease, a smile hinting at my lips. “You stole it.”
A small chuckle escapes her and it’s bliss—fucking bliss to hear it again. Her perfect, throaty laugh. “It looks better on me anyway.”
I can’t help but peek over my shoulder at her. She’s already slid on her yoga pants over her panties and is tugging the hoodie over her head. Her small breasts—bare because I didn’t think to grab any bras—jiggle as she pulls it on. Before her head pokes through, I turn away and adjust my erection. “That it does, babe.”
The bed squeaks behind me as she sits. I turn to see her slipping on her socks and tennis shoes. It bothers me that she’s sitting on that bed—a bed they shared last night—but I refrain from saying so. Instead, I stride over to her and sit beside her. My arm snakes around her waist and I hug her to me. She winces and freezes in my arms which only serves to anger me. It makes me want to jerk away from her and go back to the kitchen so I can beat the fuck out of Gabe.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I vow. “I swear to it.”
She lifts her chin and turns to look at me. “How’s Mom? And where’s Dad? Why weren’t they looking for me?”
I can’t help but sigh at her words. I knew this conversation was inevitable. I’d hoped for more time to hold her. To kiss her. To hug her. To love her. More time before having to crush her. To break what’s left of her spirit.
“Babe, maybe now’s not the time—”
“Don’t.”
I frown and scrub my palm over my face. My tongue is thick and sticky in my mouth, unable to find the right words.
“Tell me,” she urges, the plea in her voice desperate. “Please, Brandon.”
“Baylee…”
Our eyes meet, my lips just inches from her quivering bottom one. A single tear rolls down her cheek and drips from her jaw. “N-N-No.”
“She passed away,” I choke out, emotion threatening to suffocate me. “I’m so sorry.”
“God, no.” Another tear chases the last one and her nose darkens to a deep shade of red. “My poor dad.” She stifles a sob but the tears run down her cheeks as she silently cries.
Rage bubbles in my chest, eradicating the sadness I felt for her and her mother, at the mention of Tony.
“When?”
I slide a hand along her cheek and swipe away some of the wetness with my thumb. “A few days after you were taken.”
Her eyes dilate and her sadness quickly morphs into anger. “A few days? You mean, t—this was all for nothing!” Her statement is shrill and she stands abruptly. Matching her stance, I rise to my feet and grab onto her shoulders.
“That bastard didn’t even tell me!” she shrieks and attempts to jerk out of my grasp but my grip is too strong. “And my dad! He never mentioned it once while I emailed with him, Brandon! Not once! Where the hell is he? Why wasn’t he looking for me?”
A wash of dread trickles through me and I make a decision. She’s had enough for one day. I won’t be the bearer of any more bad news.
“I don’t know where he is. But when I went by your house to get your clothes, a neighbor said he’d gone to San Francisco.” The words easily roll off my tongue. “Maybe he was sparing your feelings. Maybe he wanted to tell you in person. And maybe he really is looking for you there.”
Her entire body wracks with sobs and I hug her to me. Me, comforting her, it feels like where I belong. I’ve held her crying body on numerous occasions as she struggled with coming to terms with her mother’s illness.
“San Francisco? What the hell’s in San Francisco? Something’s not right, Brandon. Do you think Gabe hurt him?”
I freeze. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He hurt you.”
She nods and tilts her tearstained face to regard me. “I’ve lost everyone.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here.”
As if my words enrage her, she jerks away from me. Guilt flashes over her features, leaving me puzzled for a moment. Then, she storms from the room on a mission. I chase after her to find her standing in front of Gabe with her hands on her hips, staring at him.
“Wake up!” she snaps and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his head back.
Gabe doesn’t even flinch. He’s breathing but he’s out cold.