Redemptive (Combative, #2)(2)

I wished I could see him properly. See the eyes of the boy who was opening his heart to me, but it was too dark—the space between us too clouded by the rain.

“Please?” he said.

I managed to nod.

He smiled again, causing the cigarette to fall from his lips. “I’ll see you in there.”

*

I walked back into the diner, a stride in my step and a new sense of hope. Marching up to the counter, I eyed the man who had denied me previously. I uncrumpled the cash in my palm—a twenty—and did my best to slam it down on the counter. In the kitchen, a door opened, and my savior entered, his smile widening when he saw me.

He used his index finger to wipe the wetness off his eyebrows and shook out his arms slightly. He smiled and with a single nod he encouraged me to find my voice.

My eyes trailed back to the man behind the counter. “I’ll have a coffee, a Coke, a double cheeseburger, and fries, please,” I said confidently, pushing the twenty toward him.

He cleared his throat. Then, over his shoulder, “Steven! Order for—”

“I heard!” my hero shouted, clearly visible under the diner lights. “I’m on it!”

He winked at me and my stomach flipped, for a completely different reason than hunger. He gave me a half smile that lit a spark in his eyes while the man in front of me cleared his throat. “Here’s your change,” he said, and then pointed to my left. “Bathroom’s that way.”





2





The need to find warmth apparently outweighed the need to fill my stomach. This made evident by the fifth push of the hand dryer button and the enormous glee I felt as I dipped my head underneath, combing my fingers through my hair.

A knock on the door had me jumping out of my skin.

“Occupied,” I shouted, just as the dryer timed out and switched off.

A chuckle filtered through from the other side, and without knowing for sure who it was, I opened the door.

My generous hero smiled wide and then held out a plastic bag in offering. “Found some clothes in my car,” he stated, eyeing me up and down quickly. “They’ll be big on you. But they’re dry.” He motioned his head to the counter. “Your food’s ready.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, taking the bag from him.

He simply nodded once, turned on his heels, and left me to change.

*

I’d just taken a seat to start my meal when he approached from the other side of the counter. He placed a set of keys right next to my plate and said, “Take your time, I’ll be done in an hour. You can wait in my car. Put the heat on.”

I don’t know what I’d done to deserve his generosity, but I sure was grateful for it. “Are you sure?”

He nodded slowly as his hand reached up and moved my hair behind my ear. His touch was warm. Safe. “Just stay okay? Don’t leave without me.”

I returned his nod, not knowing what else to do.

*

Even though I had a safe, warm place to go after my meal, for some reason I felt safer being in the same room as him—a complete stranger. So, I took my time eating. Occasionally I’d catch him staring at me with a frown that made me squirm in my seat. After an hour, he removed his apron and sat down next to me. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at his phone.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

He glanced up then—an almost shy smile on his face. His gaze moved from me to the darkness outside. The rain had stopped but it was windy. The type of crippling, cold wind I hated. When his eyes moved back to mine, his smile got wider. He reached up and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt I was wearing over my head, then reached into his pocket and grabbed a pair of woolen gloves. He started to carefully place them over my hands, and I let him. I even let him hold my hand afterward to guide me down from my seat. He held it all the way to his car while he opened the door and helped me get seated. The entire time I fought to keep the grin off my face.

It’d been a long time since someone had cared, but Steven did, and I had absolutely no idea why.

“You’re safe now,” he said as if somehow reading my thoughts. He smiled again before closing my door and making his way around to the driver’s side. Once he was settled, he turned to me. “I’m house-sitting for a friend. They’ll be back in a few days. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’d like for you to stay there, just until they get back.”

My heart slammed against my chest. It was then I understood what was happening, and as much as I wanted the warmth and comfort of a roof and a bed, I just couldn’t do it. “I won’t sleep with you,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

His hand on my forearm squeezed tight and froze me to my spot. A scream threatened in my throat, and I tried to pull out of his hold. He released me quickly and without a fight, his hands going up in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean to put my hands on you like that. I promise you, that’s not what this is. You can stay at the house. Different beds. Different rooms. Hell, you can take the entire house, I’ll sleep in my damn car.”

I stared at him, eyes wide in shock.

His phone rang; cutting off whatever response I was struggling to form. He sighed before answering the phone and lifting it to his ear. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?” He released a relieved breath. “So what’s up?”