More Than Lies (More Than #1)(65)

Fuck me. No, please do. Really!

Yeah, like that will ever happen. Don’t hold your breath, Braden. You’ll never let it happen. You told her as much last weekend.

It’s gotta be below thirty degrees out here. I can see my own breath as I blow the air out of my mouth, so what the fuck is she doing out here in those skimpy pajamas? It’s New Year’s Eve. Well, since it’s after midnight, it’s actually New Year’s Day. She shouldn’t be outside. Not dressed like that.

“Earth to Tara.” I bark. Still nothing. “Hello?” I walk over, hunch down in front of her and place my palms along the bare portion of her outer thighs. “Shit, Tara. You feel like ice.” I flinch at the point of contact. It’s then she looks up at me. That one look is like a knife stabbing straight through my heart. A heart that only beats when I’m in close proximity to the beauty sitting in front of me now.

Two tears fall simultaneously out of both of her eyes. My jaw clenches, and my hands tighten around her upper legs. I’ll kill a motherfucker, that’s for damn sure. Her shoulders start to rise and fall as her tears stream down. Her face is red and blotchy. She’s been crying for more than a few minutes, and just by the feel of her skin I know she’s been out here for a while.

Then, catching me by surprise, she leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. It’s not that I’ve never had her in my arms. Sure, there have been more than a few drunken moments when I’ve toted her to bed, but she’s never willingly reached out for me. Not like this. This is different.

This girl is going to be the death of me. She has the ability to bring me to my knees and she doesn’t even realize it.

“What’s happened, Tara? Did someone hurt you?” I ask the last part through clenched teeth as I run my palms up to her waist. She shakes her head from side to side, but her silent shudders don’t stay silent any longer as she starts to cry harder and then louder. When she fists her hands around my T-shirt I slide my hands down and under her ass to scoop her up as I stand. Her legs wrap around my hips, connecting behind my back.

“I’m taking you inside. You’re freezing.” I turn and walk the short distance to the front door. Once I’m inside, I use my boot to kick the door closed. I head to the stairs directly in front of me not paying attention to the others yelling my name from the living room off to my right side. Taking the steps quickly, I land on the second floor in seconds. I turn to the right and start to head down the short hall toward her room.

“No. Please don’t take me in there.” I halt my legs immediately. Well, fuck, where the hell am I supposed to take her? After a moment contemplating I pivot, turning around and heading in the direction of my own room at the opposite end of the hall.

Once we’re inside and the door is closed, again using the heel of my boot, I stride over to my bed and place her down gently on the mattress. She releases me and immediately pulls her legs up to meet her chest and then wraps her arms around herself. Tara is staring directly at my chest, but not actually looking at me. I can tell she is spaced out, but she is also shivering. I can’t fathom why she was outside in this weather. Granted, Mississippi weather is bipolar. One day it’s seventy degrees, and the following day it’s twenty. We are a screwed-up state, but that’s just the South for you.

Tara hates cold weather too, so the fact that she was sitting out there like it was no big deal is throwing me off. Not to mention the tears. I know something major is wrong. Tara doesn’t let people see her cry. I’m pretty sure her mother ingrained that into her at a young age. With a house full of people downstairs, I don’t know if someone hurt her feelings or worse, but I plan on finding out. And if I need to shove someone’s face into my fist, well then, I can do just that.

I pull my long sleeve T-shirt over my head; once I have it off I start to pull it down over her head. Getting her warm is my first priority. Once I have it perfectly over her torso, I tell her, “Give me your hands.” She complies without looking up at me. It’s almost as if she isn’t herself, lost in another world, but hearing everything I say. Tara writes a lot, so it isn’t unusual for her to get lost inside her own head. I’ve often heard her say it’s her favorite place to be.

I place her palms flat against my abdomen. My muscles clinch at her freezing touch. How long was she outside? Her hands are like ice. I cover her hands with my own, running my palms in an up and down motion, trying to heat her from the outside.

“Tell me what happened.” I keep my voice gentle. Taking a step closer, I keep one hand covering hers, but move my other palm to cup the side of her face. Placing my thumb under her chin, I lift her head to get her to look at me. Her eyes meet my own and what I see is crushing. Tara has always worn her emotions plastered onto her face. And tonight, she looks heartbroken. Something inside me tightens. I don’t like this. To my knowledge, she isn’t dating anyone. She hasn’t really dated since high school, and everyone knows back then anyone she dated was her mother’s doing.

Katherine Evans, or the evil queen as Tara dubbed her when we were kids, is all about image and money. If you don’t have a certain amount in your bank account, or an amount she believes you should have, then you might as well be the dirt under her shoe. Funny thing is, Katherine’s money is all Jacob’s money, her husband and Tara’s father. Katherine doesn’t have a job and has never pulled her own weight from what I’ve seen.