Just like she ignored the fact it was Friday and school had finished ten minutes ago.
My ankle was sore and pulsating. I needed ice and to rest it, but I couldn’t do that until I was home. There was no way I’d attempt walking, which meant I had to wait until she turned up.
“Need a ride?”
My shoulders slumped at the sound of his deep voice, and my hands started to shake. At this point, he was my only option, but I was afraid.
Afraid of what he’d say.
Afraid of who he’d tell.
Afraid of being in a confined space with him after what he’d seen.
“I’m good,” I said, trying to make my tone sound light and airy, but it was anything but that. My words were broken, much like my soul.
I heard his huff a second before he sat next to me on the step. His long legs stretched twice as far as mine did, and his sleeves were now pushed up, showing his tattoos. I hated that my gaze veered over to him. I didn’t want to look at him. But there was nothing I could do to stop it.
He knew my secret. He witnessed the darkest part of me. And the worst thing was, I couldn’t take it back.
“Aria.” My name rolled off his tongue like he’d said it a thousand times. “You hurt your ankle, and your mom isn’t here. Let me give you a ride.”
“Mom said she’s on her way,” I told him. It was a lie, but—
“No, she’s not.” He held his cell up, and I caught the tail-end of a message. “She messaged me asking if I’d give you a ride.”
Shit.
I swallowed and tried to keep my emotions at bay. I was sure I’d see pity in Cade’s eyes, and I wasn’t willing to let myself see that—not from him. So instead of giving him any eye contact or answering him, I stood and hobbled a couple of steps.
“Let me help—”
“I got it,” I told him, wincing when more of my weight landed on my bad ankle. “Motherfuc—”
“You got a potty mouth on you, Aria.” His tone was light and teasing, making me forget about everything that had happened today.
It was the thing I was best at: forgetting. Forgetting who I was and what I’d witnessed in my life. Forgetting what I did to myself and forgetting what mattered.
I could feel his hand at my back, and I craved to be able to turn around and collapse into his arms. I needed his safety more than he would ever know, but I couldn’t let myself have it. I couldn’t rely on him to make me feel okay, not after what he’d witnessed.
We finally made it to his car, and he opened up the passenger door. He didn’t move as I tried to shuffle myself onto the seat. I wobbled, and his hand grasped my waist to right me, and yet, I still didn’t look up. I kept my focus on the floor and then on the inside of his windshield when he shut the door behind me.
The engine roared to life a few seconds later, and we were pulling out of the lot and heading toward my apartment. It would only be minutes until I was away from him. Minutes until I was alone again. Seconds until I didn’t have to see him for at least two days because I had every intention of hiding from him.
I was so focused on my own thoughts that I didn’t realize we’d passed my apartment until it was too late. I looked over at him, careful not to gaze at his face, and watched the way his large hand gripped the steering wheel. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low. I was afraid if I talked too loud, he’d come right out and ask me what I was doing—why I was hurting myself.
“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“More for me then.”
I hated how easygoing he was. He was acting like he hadn’t seen every exposed piece of me. He was pretending this was any other normal day.
But it wasn’t.
He parked outside a burger joint and pushed out of the car, leaving me alone and debating whether I could hobble to my apartment. I rolled my ankle and let out a little squeal. Definitely couldn’t make it there.
A few minutes later, Cade jumped back into the car with drinks and a couple of bags in hand and passed them to me. He didn’t say another word as he drove out of the lot and back the way we’d just come. But it wasn’t my apartment he pulled up at. It was his house.