Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(16)

“Come here,” his deep voice beckoned. When she hesitated a pained smile came to him. “I can’t handle you being scared. Don’t make me.”

She couldn’t help it. She moved closer.





Five


Declan thought to just put his arm around her, pull her against him, but right as she moved toward him the thunder was so heavy that it felt as if it vibrated the earth itself and she ended up in his lap.

At first, he tensed, and so did she. The same current he had felt twice over when he had this girl all alone was there. The urge to fight what he didn’t understand was his first instinct. But then he relaxed against the wall he was leaning on and gently drew his arms around her as she settled against his chest so easily that it felt like she had done so a thousand times before.

“All right?” he asked a few minutes later after another warning went off.

“Yeah,” she breathed nervously.

They stayed quiet for a moment listening to the storm they could hear approaching. The next one was going to come a lot closer to the school, but it was still a ways off.

The thunder crashed and the wind became so fierce that they could hear it whistling through the vents like a distant train screeching to a halt. The lights flickered only to decide to stay on. All the while they held each other in comfortable silence.

Declan found himself marveling at the fact he had never needed many words with this girl. And how he thought it was cool as hell that she was settled enough in her own skin that she was never fake—she was as true as the blush he’d see slide down her body when any emotion, good or bad, claimed her.

His rose...

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice it had gotten a bit quiet so when the next clap came and then the power went out he squeezed her tighter than he meant to, and she cried out.

“Sorry,” he said across a deep laugh, right as the lights flicked on again.

Only she wasn’t smiling, tears were welling in her eyes and she was trying to hide them.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he said again, seriously questioning how hard he had squeezed her.

“It’s not you,” she said, trying to smile but blushing instead. “I, uh. I fell the other day, got a bit bruised.”

His concerned stare turned murderous in a beat. “You fell,” he bit out, moving her out of his lap.

“Yeah,” she said, not meeting his eyes, just because she didn’t want him to pull the complete truth out of her. She did fall, but she fell because she was dodging a backhanded swing that came after her speaking up for her grandmother when her dad had had too much to drink.

He rarely hit her face for obvious reasons, but he was not shy about throwing her in any direction or into anything, enough to knock the wind out of her.

Last week she fell into his toolbox and somehow the sound of all his tools hitting the floor sobered him up a bit, or at the very least he decided Justice had learned her lesson.

“Show me,” Declan demanded.

Her flush, more from outright humility not shyness, deepened.

“No.”

“Show me,” he said again with even less finesse in his deep tone as he eyed her dress and tried to figure out the best way to see for himself without putting all kinds of temptation he didn’t need in his face.

“Why?” she growled.

“Because it’s bullshit and you know it.”

“What?”

“You fell?”

“I did fall.”

“After what?” he roared.

She jerked her stare away.

“You need out of that house, Justice.”

“It’s not as bad as you think, and it’s not your problem.”

He sharply lifted his hands to the side. “Exactly how bad do I think it is?”

“I don’t know, but from the look in your eye I would guess you think I’m tied up and whipped.”

Declan leered. “I heard the way he talked to you. And I heard Murdock act like it was nothing.”

“He’s an *, yes. I tend to attract them.”

He glared. “Are you calling me one?”

“You did.”

He cursed and punched the mat next to him before he hung his head between his raised knees and counted, just the way his dad always told him to do.

“Show me,” he finally said.

“Declan, you don’t need this shit on your plate.”

“Too late.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means whether you show me or not, I know. And for the next fourteen weeks of my life I’m going to think about it. It’s going to overshadow every f*cking other worry I have about what’s going on at home.”

Justice’s eyes grew wide. Nolan had told her he and Declan were at odds because he didn’t sign up and was hitting the road instead. Nolan said he felt bad about it because knowing Declan it would be a distraction for him, and that was the last thing he needed.

The idea that he’d worry about her as much as his brother, his best friend, flattered and ticked her off. She had issues, yes. But she was not broken. Cracked maybe, but who wasn’t?

“You know what, *,” she said standing up. “Fine. My dad drinks, and he’s a dick. I look like my mom, which just makes him even madder when he’s had a few and I decide to speak my mind. Which isn’t often because it’s easier to dodge him.”