Jesus fucking Christ.
“Anyway,” he adds. “I have her in my truck. What do you want me to do with her?”
He says it like she’s a goddamn appliance he’s delivering. Then again, that’s Storm. The only emotion the fucker is able to register is anger.
I swipe my keys off my dresser. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll keep her until you get here. Although I should warn you, the girl still hasn’t said anything. I think she’s in shock or something.”
The towel I swiped from the bathroom on my way out isn’t gonna cut it.
Lennon’s covered head to toe in pig slop. It’s so bad it’s caked onto her clothes, eyelashes, and hair.
She keeps her gaze cast down as I help her out of Storm’s truck.
She definitely needs a shower, but I can’t take her back to my place.
Not with him there.
I don’t think bringing her home is a good idea, either. Lennon’s dad actually gives a shit about his daughter, so I wouldn’t put it past him to not only flip out, but march over here and yell at everyone…which will only make things worse for her.
I look at Storm. “Can I—”
“You don’t even need to ask.” He gestures to the house where the party sounds like it’s still in full swing. “I’m gonna head back in there and get my dick sucked. See you in the morning.”
With those parting words, he bounces, and I lead Lennon to my car.
She doesn’t say shit to me on the drive to Storm’s.
Lennon protests as I usher her through the front door. “Can you take me home—”
“My word,” Grams exclaims when she sees us, nearly dropping her cup of tea. “What happened?”
“Some bitches attacked Lennon at a graduation party.”
As a Southern Christian woman who attends church for fun, she usually scolds me whenever I curse, but she’s too focused on Lennon.
After handing me her tea, she grabs Lennon’s hand and escorts her to the bathroom. “You go and shower, sweet pea. I’ll wash your clothes.”
Lennon isn’t having it, though. “Thank you, but I don’t want to impose. I’ll just call an Uber and—”
“Nonsense,” Grams says, and I can’t help but laugh because there’s no arguing with the woman. “Go on in and get cleaned up.” She opens the bathroom door. “Towels are in the cabinet over there.”
Realizing she’s not going to win this battle, Lennon concedes. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Grams frowns after the door closes. “What a cruel thing to do.” Shuffling toward the kitchen, she lets out a long sigh. “May they rot in hell. Every last one of them.”
Amen to that.
It dawns on me that Lennon’s going to need something to wear while her clothes are being washed, so I head into Storm’s room. I make a beeline for the duffel bag I keep here for when shit gets bad at home and I need to crash for a few days.
As I’m rummaging through it, I come across a faded black Papa Roach T-shirt Grams got me for my birthday a few years ago.
I have a feeling Lennon will prefer this over one of Gram’s hideous nightgowns.
The shower is running by the time I reach the bathroom, so I open the door. “I brought you—”
“Jesus. Don’t you knock?” Lennon screeches, quickly reaching for a towel.
I catch the briefest glimpse of a purple bra and flashes of ink before she clutches the towel to her body.
I’ll be damned. Little Miss Innocent and I have something else in common.
“You have tattoos?”
Lennon shoots me a look like she wants to rip my head off. “Get out of here!”
For fuck’s sake. She’s not the first naked chick I’ve encountered. It’s practically a daily occurrence.
“Relax, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Not that I even saw much of anything in the first place.
I place the T-shirt on the sink. “I brought you something to wear.”
A half-hour later, the interior door opens, and Lennon enters the garage. Her dark shoulder-length hair that’s usually tied up is now loose and wet, and she keeps tugging down the T-shirt even though it grazes her knees. That, along with her expression, makes it clear she’s uncomfortable.
However, she’s no longer covered in pig slop, so she should take it as a win.
“Hey.”
“Can you take me home?”
I could, but I don’t want to. I figured we could hang out for a bit.