Travis
The cab of my truck almost vibrates with unspoken words. Except for occasional sniffles from Analise, followed by murmured reassuring words from Faye, no one says anything. The further we go from the diner the more Ana stiffens until she sits ramrod straight in her seatbelt, her hands twisting in her lap.
Faye glances at me. I can tell she wants me to say something reassuring. But
I have no words. Until I know more about why Ana left her husband, I don’t know what I can do to help her.
The short drive ends as I pull into my driveway, and Faye sags against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I stop in front of my house and cut the engine.
As I reach for my door Ana asks, “He isn't here, is he?” Her voice wobbles, her hands fisted against her thighs.
I open the door and drop the short distance to the ground as Faye hurries to reassure her. “Oh no. He’s not here. Travis is supposed to find you and take you home.”
Rounding to the other side, I help Ana down to the ground before turning and lifting Faye into my arms for a hug. She squeezes me with a little sigh before letting go.
My dick is semi-hard from the brief contact of our bodies, and I know she feels it rubbing against her. I slide her against me until her feet hit the ground. Her eyes flash up, glittering in the dim porch light, before she ducks her head and hurries to take Ana by the hand, leading her inside.
I thought finding Analise would take weeks, maybe even months. The odds of finding her because I found Faye are next to impossible. In fact, if it hadn’t just happened, I wouldn’t have thought such a coincidence possible.
Now we just have to settle the issue of establishing her safety and getting her back to her husband in Vegas.
I never promised Cerelli that she would stay with him, just that I would return her to him. If she wants to leave him after I take her back, Blake and I will help her. It’s a given. I may have liked Xavier over the phone, but Faye would never let me leave Ana somewhere she didn't want to be.
Faye leads Ana into the kitchen and bustles around, making tea and finding a small box of cookies hidden in the back of the pantry. Holding up the package, she shakes it in my direction. “Here I thought you were Mr. Health Food.” Her eyes roam over me, lingering on my flat stomach and where the sleeves of my t-shirt stretch tight around my bulging biceps.
Tilting my chin up in acknowledgement of her checking me out, I wink. Red heat floods her cheeks and I can’t stop my chuckle.
Turning her nose up into the air, Faye turns her back on me and, opening the cookie package, sets it in front of her friend. She looks longingly at the sweet treat, and I wonder how long it has been since she bought herself something to eat just because it sounded good to her.
It’s been a while, I can tell.
“Sit.” I push myself away from the wall. “I will bring you girls the tea.”
Ana has the same hungry look as Faye does, but Faye’s goes deeper. Somehow her sweet face shows her solitary struggle, and how long it was.
Once the package of cookies is mostly gone, Faye and Ana both seem more at ease as they sip tea. After putting more water on to heat, I jog up to my office and grab my laptop, calling for Max. I can’t help but hope that he will help Ana relax a bit while we discuss what happens next.
I hear the low murmur of voices in the kitchen and slow my steps.
“Are you going to be safe with Xavier?”
I'm surprised by Ana’s vehement reply. “Oh, yes! Completely.”
There is no doubt in her voice. One less thing to worry about is always good, in my book. Striving to look like I wasn’t just eavesdropping, I stroll into the room.
Ana looks at me. “I didn't leave Xavier because he was violent or abusive toward me. You don't need to be worried about my well-being.”
“If he wasn't abusive, then why did you run away?” I ask, sitting down across from them.
Her eyes narrow as she considers her words. Her jaw clenches and her pale eyes harden. “I had plans for my life to be something other than the property of Xavier Cerelli,” she finally grits out.
My gut tells me she is more upset with herself than him. There is definitely a story here, but it’s doubtful she is going to open up to me about it.
“Are you willing to go back to Vegas and talk to him?” I ask. Her compliance will make this less complicated.
”Do I have a choice?” Her tone is bitter and maybe a little sad.
Faye answers before I can. “Of course you do. Travis won't force you to go back.” Her golden eyes burn into mine, demanding that I agree with her.