Page 21 of Savage Salvation

His gaze takes a lingering look around the storage room that I’m calling home. “I’ve never wanted to lock you up in a cage. I only want to set you free. The both of us.”

For the first time, something rises in me that feels a lot like embarrassment as he reaches for the back door. Pulling it open, he slips out without saying anything else. He has no right to make me feel ashamed, and I’m an idiot for permitting him to do so. We can’t all be born Hawthornes. Some of us are doing the best we can. And I’m fine.

As I take a look around the room, I remind myself that I love this place. I love the store. I love the vibe. And I’m only feeling sorry for myself this time because I know one day I’ll have to walk away and not look back at the storage closet that is the closest thing I’ve had to a home since I was ten. Reaching for the key that Gage left behind, I snatch it off the bed and toss it in the trash can. There’s no way I’ll ever use it. Even if there was some sincerity to his offer of an adequate place to stay with no catch, he is part of the deal I’d be accepting too. And that, I won’t unlock.

15

Gage

My truck comes to an abrupt stop in the first parking spot I see. The drive here felt too damn long because I need her in my view. The tough, spunky vixen. Not the sad-eyed girl getting ready to sleep in the back of a run-down music shop. I knew she was staying at the damn store. But actually seeing her there, getting ready for bed, alone, hit differently.

My house has ample room, and I wanted to haul her ass there with me. But I knew she’d never stay even if I managed to get her there somehow. And it took everything I had not to crawl on the dingy bed and stay there with her. It kills me to know that I’d rather be there, with her, holed up in a glorified closet than anywhere else, while she prefers to be alone and refuses to trust me or take advantage of a comfortable, clean bed with a private bathroom.

When I spot her car already parked, I head into the building and straight for class. Somewhere along the way, Ryan’s pestering ass falls in step beside me. “Man, that shit was awesome. They ran away like the scared, useless little bitches they are.” He hits my shoulder in a congratulatory slap. “Entertaining as hell. And another notch closer to me driving away with the win.”

The fucking bet. That’s what’s on his mind. “It’s not over yet.” It’ll never be over. Because I won’t give up even if the wager time lapses, because that’s not my ultimate goal in mind.

“Yeah. I was thinking, since your sexy machine is practically mine already, I need to take it for a test spin this weekend when I take my new bitch out for one too.”

“No.” He always has a new one because none stick around for long. I suspect the car wouldn’t change a damn thing.

“Come on, bro. You never even drive the thing.” His frustration only makes extending his suffering that much more gratifying. But he’s right, I opt to drive my truck more often than not. It’s the practical choice, but that’s not why I drive it. The thrill has just worn off with the others.

“No.”

The whiny bitch continues his plea as we step into the classroom. I completely block his words out when I see Kinsley. She’s sitting with her elbows propped on the table, her face turned down, looking to her phone.

Taking a seat next to her, she doesn’t acknowledge my arrival. But she’s aware of me. I can tell in the way her body tenses, her heightened effort to keep her focus on her phone and off of me.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab two pieces of her favorite strawberry guilty pleasure and drop one in front of me before unwrapping the piece that remains in my hand. When I pop it in my mouth, the sweet flavor covers my tongue. A muffled curse under her breath draws a smile on my face. I pick up the second piece and drop it on the tabletop in front of her. Leaning over, I whisper the goddamn truth. “It tastes better off your tongue.”

Her head turns in my direction, eyes shooting daggers at me. She shifts back as she scoops up the candy and chucks it, nailing me square on the forehead.

I can’t keep the amusement off my face, but she seems less than thrilled with me, as usual. “We can share my piece.”

Flying out of her seat, her boot kicks the chair, sending it flying backward as she grabs her bag. She storms out of the room, but I’m on her heels. Polski gives me only a brief glance as I follow Kinsley into the hallway. She’s fuming.

“Out of everything I’ve done, that’s what sends you running away from me?”

There’s no response from her as I follow her angry march, which leads us to the main office. Kinsley stops when she reaches the secretary’s desk. “I need a schedule change.”

“Boswell handles that, but it’s too late in the year to switch out now. You can fill out this form, and he’ll call you into his office when he has time.” The broad calmly slides a paper across her desk and dismisses Kinsley.

“You wouldn’t ask this son of a bitch to fill out a fucking form.” Kinsley snatches the form off the desk, balls it up, then flings it at me. The paper thumps against my chest and falls to the floor as Kinsley shouts, “I want it done now! Where’s Boswell?”

This is gold. I’m thoroughly enjoying the outburst, but the old hag seems to be caught off guard by Kinsley’s hostility. I’m adjusted since it’s usually aimed at me.

The hotheaded siren huffs midway through the secretary telling her to calm down, then swiftly turns on her heel. It’s my cue to keep on the journey, so I’m a step behind her when she reaches the counselor’s door. Twisting the knob, she’s unable to open the locked door. Her fist comes up and bangs on it for a few seconds before yelling to no answer.

Once she accepts defeat, she stomps out of the office and steps into the corridor, walking in the opposite direction of our classroom. She can switch out, but I’ll follow her—just as I am right now. “Maybe if you ask nicely, on your knees, I’ll have it taken care of for you.”

Her pursuit to evade me halts. But she doesn’t say anything, just stares at me for a few seconds before continuing down the hall. Why isn’t she fighting back, only fleeing?

Hooking my fingers on her elbow, I bring her in to the nearest classroom that I know is vacant. She jerks her arm away, but I manage to get her in the room, closing the door behind us. I lean against it, watching her furious face turn away from me as her arms fold over her chest. Nothing else happens though. No curses. No threats. No attempts to leave. Just nothing.

“What is it?”

No response.