Southern Hospitality
14
Peace
After Lauren and Cain left, he drove to the local Patient First, and sat for thirty minutes while his hand swelled and throbbed. The doctor and nurse that treated him told him he'd broken four of those little bones in his hand and the doctors wrapped it all nice and clean in a cast.
"Be careful," the nurse advised him while handling his hand like he was a Leper, familiar disgust and fear in her eyes.
He pretended not to notice the stares as he walked to the car, keeping his arms at his side. His hand throbbed in its little, clean cast, wrapped up tight as he carefully got into his car. Ignore them, he told himself fiercely, they don't matter.
Somehow, he managed to drive home without jarring his bad hand too badly. When he pulled into the driveway, he saw Chloe sitting on the steps, fiddling with something in her hands. He paused before hitting the brakes and turning off the ignition.
She glanced up at him, curls in her eyes, and a smile lit up her face, making her baby blues glow. She reminded him of a puppy, excited for a treat. She bounced up, curls bouncing, and he was struck by how thin she was; sure, he'd always known but until then, it wasn't really something he ever noticed. Her legs were thin, almost unhealthy, and when her feet touched, her thighs didn't touch. Her collarbone protruded from pallor, freckled skin and dark shadows bruised the fragile bones of her thin wrists and cheeks. It was almost frightening to see how little she looked in an oversized shirt and skin-tight leggings.
She bounded up to the side of the car and practically vibrated beside him, rocking on her heels. "How did it go? Is your hand okay?" she asked the minute he opened the door. Her eyes searched his for a second, cheeks scarlet, before they dropped down to his cast-encased hand. "Oh my god," she blurted, eyes wide and a hand clapped against her mouth in surprise.
"Broke some bones. Nothing big." To his surprise, his mouth started to curl up into a smile and his turned his face away to grab his keys and the painkillers. When his boots touched the pavement, Chloe stepped back and, once more, he was awestruck by her appearance.
The setting sun haloed down onto her golden curls, highlighting each individual strand, the sharp cheekbones, the hollows of her collarbone. Her eyes looked ever blue, endless, framed by sunlight brush bristles. The dusting of freckles stood out painful, popping in HD. Her spider fingers tapped against her knuckles, catching his attention to what was between her palms, crushed.
"What's that?" he asked as he nudged the door closed with his hip. The truck rocked from side to side a little bit before it settled back down.
Chloe muttered something to herself. "It's for you. It's…uh…just something…" The blush that colored her cheeks was dripping down the rest of her face, down her jaw, down her neck, and from his vantage point, he could see it easily slipped down her chest as well.
Clearing his throat, he took it gently from her fingers, wedging and prying it away. The pink envelope crackled, radio interference loud. "Thanks."
"S-so how long will t-the cast stay on?" She was picking for conversation, twisting the ends of her hair together nervously as they made their way up the stairs.
He pulled open the screen door and watched her walk in. Her shoulders were tense and he could smell her stress from a mile away (figuratively of course, he wasn't a werewolf) as he dumped his keys into his pocket and the painkillers on the table. She needs a little cheering up, he thought as he turned on his heel. He knew the perfect place.
"Chloe, let's go."
He didn't wait to see if she'd follow; somehow, he knew she would.
Derek didn't say anything on the way there, just listened to Chloe try to fill the silence until, finally, he chuckled, "Chloe?"
Her head whipped to him, eyed wide. "Y-yeah?" Her voice was far too husky for his liking, but he brushed it off.
"Don't worry, you don't have to talk." He let his mouth twitch up a little.
She relaxed, obviously not caring now. Her legs crossed at the ankles, body slumping down in her seat and messing up her curls. "Where are we going?" she asked absently, lolling her head towards him casually as her eyes closed.
"A secret place," he said, holding a finger to his lips.
She smiled as her hand dropped down between their armrests, her face turned to him. She drew her legs up, curling in on herself as her hand touched his. Her tiny fingers sought out his forearm, clutching it like he was her favorite teddy bear.
Hiding a smile in his sleeve, fake coughing, he felt his heart pound a little bit.
The rest of the drive was quiet, broken only by the occasional crackle in the radio station as the music droned on and on. He lowered it with a nudge of his good hand, gently, so as not wake up the sleeping girl.
Having her next to him, holding his hand, sent his heart thumping, loud, in his chest; all the blood rushed in his ears, into his cheeks. It was hard to believe that she wanted him, with his scars and violent tendencies and utterly fucked-up past. She still wanted him, anti-social, rude, snarky. She'd rather have him than Royce or Ramon or Liam. He grinned, grateful for the long, empty stretch of road, with little to no other vehicles because, really, who believe that the Killer Mutt, Derek Souza, Resident Monster, could smile—hell, no, even be loved? He was bad, a monster, no worse than Cain, that bastard. He was a monster's son, a monster himself, and nothing would ever change that.
He felt Chloe stir, pressing her cheek against the inside of his elbow, breath ghosting across his skin deliciously. His pulse quickened, jumping under the surface of his skin. Her skin was smooth and silky against his, curls tickling.
Beautiful. He shifted and she looked so breath taking. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the road.