Page 14 of Love Always

“Yeah.”

“Well, listen amigo, stay away from her as well. She can’t be good news. Not if she’s mixed up with those two.”

“Right,” he says, clearly not hearing me. I may need to drive the point home harder.

“Hey. My car is back on that street. You want to walk with me?”

He shrugs. “So’s mine.”

This time we take a more civilized route down one block and over two. As we round the corner. He suddenly stops and turns around. “That’s her,” he says.

I glance across the street.

There’s Toothpick guy in front of the restaurant with his hand on a girl’s shoulder. Her back is to me but it’s clear from her body language she is trying to get away from him. He’s not a big guy and she’s pretty small. They’re clearly arguing.

“That’s not her,” Chris says. “But that’s somebody else from class though.”

Suddenly that asshole spins her around, hard and she stumbles back, against the concrete of the building.

When she glances up at him as she catches herself, I get a clear view of her face and my stomach drops. In a moment of confusion, I nearly freeze.

It’s Laurel.

A car goes by, but I’m already hurdling across the street, and dodging two more. She’s standing with her back to the building and he’s right in her face. Determined not to get caught off guard again, my gun is out and in my hand. I’m pounding the pavement hard and every step shoots fire up my left leg.

“Back away!”

Toothpick doesn’t move. “I thought I told you to go—”

“I’ve got a weapon motherfucker. Back off.”

His hands fly up and he slowly turns around. I shove the gun back in my holster, grab him by his filthy shirt, and throw him up against the building, hanging on tight to his collar. Trying to keep my voice low and in control is necessary so Laurel doesn’t get overwhelmed. “Laurel, are you okay?”

Standing up, she sniffs.

“Did you hit your head?”

Silence.

“Laurel, did you hit your head?”

“No, no sorry.”

“Reach into my pocket and get the key fob to the Lexus. It’s across the street. Get in the car and lock it. I’ll be there in a minute.” It isn’t until I say more sharply, “Laurel. Now,” that I feel her hands in my right pocket.

I release asshole. He smooths his shirt and glances around and then juts a jaw my direction.

“My dad’s a judge. You do that again, you’re in deep shit.”

“I don’t give a shit who your dad is you little prick. You talk to her again, you touch her again, you’re mine.” Then I blunder. “And keep away from Chris Proctor. He’s off limits too.”

In a second I realize my mistake. If Chris is within earshot he heard me say his name.

He was. The red door to the Civic slams shut and his pale face looms as he drives by.

Fuck.

“There goes your new friend,” says asshole.