Crazy Girl(16)

After a short internal struggle, I decided I couldn’t consciously leave and sleep well tonight without checking on her. Damn it. Jogging over to her, I kneeled down, making sure to keep a few feet of space between us. She was sniffling—definitely crying. Damn, I freaking hated when women cried. I was not the guy you came to for a shoulder to cry on. Her purse was between her legs, her cell phone and keys lay beside her. She was a sitting duck for any creep that might be wanting to take advantage of someone.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

She didn’t look up. “Wren?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Is there…someone I can call for you?”

Using the heels of her hands, she rubbed at her eyes that were squeezed shut, smearing eyeliner all over her face. “No, I’ll be okay. Thanks for checking. You can go.” She sniffled twice.

I stared at her a moment, my brow furrowing. She wasn’t opening her eyes. In fact, she had them clenched tight, her face twisted in pain. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she insisted, scooting back against the car, then blindly reaching her hand out, touching it to the pavement in search of something, her phone. Picking it up, I grabbed her wrist and placed it in her palm.

She paused, as if she didn’t know what to say, then mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Open your eyes,” I told her.

Digging in her bag, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. “I’m good.” I nodded silently, pressing my lips together. It was night time, dark as hell, and she was putting on sunglasses. “Thank you for checking on me.” Crab-crawling her way up the car, she managed to clutch her purse and keys in one arm, then used her free hand to guide herself a step away from me.

I wanted to laugh. God, she was a mess. I mean, seriously. It was outstandingly evident something was wrong with her eyes, but she wouldn’t own it.

“Hannah.” I was amazed I was able to hide the humor in my tone when I spoke. “What in the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

Turning her head toward me, she acted as if she were looking me right in the face, but her head was turned too far to the right. She definitely wasn’t looking at me. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” I nodded, crossing my arms. “This your car here?”

“Of course, it’s my car,” she snapped.

“Okay. Unlock it and I’ll leave you alone.” I knew it wasn’t her car. She had a key to a Toyota on her keychain and she was leaned against a Honda.

Letting out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slouched and she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, returning her hands to her eyes. “Fine. I maced myself,” she whined.

“What?”

“Mace,” she grumbled as she rubbed hard at her eyes.

This time I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “How in the hell did you do that?”

“I had it in my purse in case you were a psycho. It leaked and got on my hands, and I rubbed my eyes.”

I was still laughing.

“It’s not funny.” She hung her head. I bit my lower lip and fought like hell to quiet my chuckles. Obviously, she was embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be humiliated sitting out in a parking lot, blind as a bat, because the mace you brought to protect yourself from a would-be psycho ended up taking you down? I felt bad for her.

“We gotta rinse your eyes out.” I gently took her arm. “Like, right away. Let’s go.”

She immediately pulled away from me. “I’m not going back in there in front of all those people.”

“Okay.” I took her arm again. She was a jumpy little thing. “I have a gallon of water in my truck.”

Did I mention difficult as hell, too? She dragged her feet as I pulled her, not trusting me to lead her blind, yet realizing she really didn’t have a choice. “Why would you have a gallon of water in your truck?”

“To drink.”

She huffed, shaking her head slightly, apparently annoyed by my answer. Even water was on this chick’s shit list.

“What?” I questioned, annoyed. Could I not say anything right to this woman?

“Your answers are always so basic.”

“Okay.” I snickered, the sound coming out in a grunted rasp, not really sure what she meant, but not caring enough to ask. Of course, she didn’t need me to query, she was happy to clarify.

“You give one to two worded answers. Never any depth. Just basic, plain answers.”

Again, I didn’t bother responding. Why the hell did she care so much? After tonight, I’d never see her again. Besides, my answer most likely wouldn’t meet her standards of word count anyway. When we reached my truck, I pulled the tailgate down and lifted her on it. The gesture startled her and she blindly clutched my shoulders.

“Easy. Just sitting you on the tailgate. Chill.” My blood pressure was rising. Being around someone so…intense was equally exhausting and frustrating. So damn fidgety. I was trying to help her and she was still acting like I was a threat. What did she think? That I’d douse her ass in gasoline? Good grief. Someone’s been watching too much damn television.

Leaving her, I rounded to the passenger side and tossed my glasses on the dashboard before grabbing the water I had behind the seat. When I reached her again, she still had her eyes closed, though not as tightly, and her hands were gripping the tailgate, her head hung.