Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(25)
“It was my job.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, babe. It was my job that day I saw that guy hold the gun to your head, but it didn’t make it any easier. I felt more out of control that day than I ever have in my life. My emotions were in a blender, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make a rational decision. I have no idea how you administered medical care to me and kept it together.” And that’s the realest I’ve ever been with her. If we want to face things and start repairing the relationship we fucked up, we have to start somewhere.
She swallows so hard I can see her throat move. “I didn’t want anyone else touching you,” her voice is low as she drives us back to Laurel Springs. “In my mind, no one cares for you like I do, so I wasn’t sure if anyone else could give you the kind of attention I could. While it hurt to see you lying there, see the blood pouring from the cut over your eye, see the swelling that was already happening on your face, and hear you gasping for air, I knew I could keep you going. I knew what to do to make it better, and I was going to be damned if I let anyone else touch you. No one else knew you physically and emotionally like I did, and in my heart I knew I’d provide the best care.”
There’s a clarity to her voice and a clarity to the feelings that hit me square in the chest. She’s damn right, no one does care for me better than she does. Not even my sister or my mom. Blaze cares with her whole heart and her whole body. It reminds me that we have a lot of work to do, and now that I feel like a whole man, we’re gonna be putting in a huge amount of time to make it work.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Blaze
Sometimes when I dress up for these parties, I don’t even recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. No, that’s a lie; I do recognize myself, but the me I see is the one who let everyone else control her life. It’s the sixteen-year-old girl who was being groomed to marry a rich man and become a society maven. If I close my eyes and think hard, I can still see her. With her platinum blonde hair, wearing her pearls like a southern debutante does, clear eyes innocent as hell only wanting to please her parents.
I can remember her very clearly. She wore pink lipstick and looked at men underneath long eyelashes, and she giggled when a boy with proper family lineage would pay attention to her. Daphne would shrink into the crowd, smile prettily, curtsy, and be the envy of every other southern debutante in the room.
The memories aren’t happy and I don’t like reliving a past that’s painful. Squaring my shoulders, I lean closer to the mirror, making sure the fake lashes I’m applying are even. “Nice,” I grin at myself, running my tongue over my teeth to make sure my bright red lipstick isn’t on the white enamel. The little black dress I’m wearing covers the tattoos on my arms, and for one night, I look like what my parents truly want their daughter to look like. As I turn in the mirror to look behind me, making sure my ass is covered, one of the waves I’ve curled my hair into escapes from my updo. It’s an easy fix before I put earrings in my ears and a bracelet on my wrist. One last time, I give myself a once-over before spritzing perfume on my pulse points and leave Trevor’s bathroom.
Entering the bedroom I hear a wolf-whistle. He’s standing in the doorway, actually standing there, with his hands above his head braced against the frame. He takes my breath away for a moment, because he’s so damn fine. I mean dayum, I’m going home with that tonight. As usual, he’s oblivious to how hot he is.
I’ve only seen Trevor in a tux once before, at a work associate’s wedding. I’d been a guest and Trevor had been in the wedding party. Back then we hadn’t been together, and all I wanted to do was go up to him, push the jacket off his broad shoulders, and throw my arms around his neck. Tonight, that’s what I want to do, too.
Instead, I know I need to get my head in the game. We have appearances to make. It’s so good to see him without crutches, but I’m worried he’s pushing himself too hard. “You okay?”
“Am I okay?” he raises an eyebrow, watching as I put my feet into a pair of Louboutins – one of the only extravagant purchases I’ve allowed my mom to make for me in the last few years. There are certain things I’ll skimp on, but one thing I do love are a pair of fuck-me pumps with the red sole. “Woman, are you okay? You fell down from Heaven and landed in my house. Fuck me,” he winks at me.
“Did you really just feed me that bullshit pick-up line?”
“I’m hoping it helps me get lucky later on tonight,” he pushes off the door frame and slowly makes his way over to me.
Since he’s been laid up with his injury, he’s lost weight, but it looks good on him. Just like it’ll look good on him when he gains it back. Trevor has the type of body that can carry some muscle and be lean as fuck. He’s hot both ways. My hands itch to curl around his midsection as he approaches me. There’s a small hitch in his stride, but if I weren’t looking for it, I wouldn’t even notice it.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers as he finally gets within touching distance. Grabbing me around the waist, he adjusts his stance so we’re eye level.
I smile slowly, averting my eyes downward. When I look this way and he looks at me the way he is now, it makes me shy. Right now, I’m all Daphne. A part of me wants to bury my face in his neck until I come back out like Blaze. “You think?” He knows I’m not fishing for compliments. What I’m wearing, what I’m portraying, just isn’t me.