Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(60)

Heaving a sigh of relief, my gaze settles on my new car again. Damn . . . I smile. It’ll take me three hours to get back to Sisters and I’m more than ready to go. On my way to put away the tools and clean up, I pull out my phone to text Alex. Her car’s in the driveway, but she never stuck her head out into the garage once. That, or I was too busy rushing to get the work done to notice.

When I’ve put everything away and she hasn’t responded, I decide to use the doorbell for the first time.

Three tries later and no answer, I start to get worried. The last time I saw her, last night, she was being pulled by the neck into the house, about to let that asshat have her body. That’s why I walk through the mudroom, past the bathroom—which is as far as I’ve ever gone inside this house—and continue to the door that leads into the main house. It’s unlocked.

“Alex!” I holler as I pull it open. The huge kitchen—probably the size of my apartment—sits in dim light on the other side.

And I wait for an answer.

When I don’t get one, I call again, “Alex!”

“Jesse?” comes a groggy answer.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” No wonder she didn’t come to the door. I must have woken her up.

“It’s okay.” Soft footfalls pad against the floor somewhere unseen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just . . .” Do I tell her what I want? I already basically laid myself out on the line last night, making her all kinds of promises about her life with me. A broke-ass twenty-four-year-old mechanic. “I just wanted to say that I’m done. I’m heading out.”

“Already?” She peers out from the far side of a cabinet across the kitchen. “Okay. Well . . . I guess I’ll talk to you sometime? Maybe see you at The Cellar?”

“Yeah . . . I guess.” So, this is it? I was kind of hoping that we’d both say “f*ck it” and dive into each other in some epic made-for-film union. Is she feeling the same way?

A small smile touches her lips. “Is that your new car I saw you drive up in?”

So she has been watching. Which means she probably wasn’t sleeping. Just avoiding me. “Yeah. You wanna come see it?”

“Some other time, maybe.” She adjusts her posture.

And winces.

Alarm bells go off inside my head. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

“Nothing. So, this car, what kind is it again?” She tries to divert my attention. The problem is, now that I’m paying closer attention, I also notice that the left side of her mouth looks swollen again.

I march through the kitchen in my work boots until I’m standing a foot in front of her. “What the hell happened to you, Alex?”

“It’s okay, Jesse. Really,” she says, dipping her face away. Everything about her stance—arms folded over her stomach, shoulders curled in, huddling into a corner—suggests otherwise.

I slam my fist against the wall switch and the kitchen’s suddenly flooded with light. Reaching forward with both hands, I clutch her chin as gently as possible and turn her face back toward me.

To see that the left side of her mouth is indeed swollen again, and an angry red bruise colors her cheek.

“Did Viktor do this to you?”

She tries to turn her face away but I won’t let her. “He was drunk.”

“And?” I don’t mean to bark at her.

“And he can get a little rough during . . .” Her face flushes. “When he’s been drinking. I don’t think he actually meant to hurt me.” She hesitates. “He wanted me to remember the feel of him while he’s gone.”

“Jesus, Alex.” My gaze can’t help but drop. If her face looks like this, what did he do to her body? I can barely see straight, my vision blurring with rage. “You need to see a doctor.”

She shakes her head.

“We need to call the cops and have him arrested.”

“No!” She tempers her voice. “It’s not that bad and it’s over. I’m not going to relive it.”

“Yeah, until the next time.”

“It’s never been this bad before. It only happened because I wasn’t . . .” She pauses again, her eyes flittering to mine before dropping again, finishing, “receptive enough.”

I say nothing. Her hands fold over mine and guide them away from her face. But she doesn’t let go, squeezing past me and taking backward steps through the kitchen toward the garage, pulling me along with her. “Come, show me your car.”

“Fuck my car, Alex! I’m leaving the stupid car!” Or seeing how fast it accelerates as I ram it into his prized collection.

“Take the car. You earned it.” She steps forward and her hand lifts to graze my jawline. “It made you so happy. I saw your smile when you first came.”

“And do I look happy right now, Alex?” Seeing her face like this makes me want to punch a wall.

She tugs at my hand. “Come on, please?”

My legs automatically unlock and follow her along, my grip of her hands tightening. She takes slow, even steps. Like it hurts her to walk. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat? A sandwich?”

“No! I don’t want a damn sandwich, Alex,” I mutter, shaking my head at her. She doesn’t say another word as I follow her into the mudroom and out into the garage, grabbing her coat for her on the way.