Rescuing Her 18+ (Her Series book two)

Mia

I must be in shock. Probably from blood loss, or my brain has finally snapped from all the stress of this past year, but I'm allowing this stranger to bring me to his home and take care of me. I even want him to.

Something about him just feels... right. It's like my soul knows that this man is safe. Which is strange given my track record.

Ignoring the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, the alternative would be to sleep under a bridge until I can earn enough money somehow to get another motel room.

Levi was very insistent that I stay with him but I still feel like I'm using him. I'm sure the only reason he's taking such an active interest is because he's the sheriff. Whatever the case may be, I need his help.

I tenderly walk to the attached bathroom and set the wad of clothes he handed me on the sink before closing the door. I had stitches in my leg, both arms, and my side. The wounds are closed up but there's a nasty red line where they were and they're very tender. The stab wound in my side would have been a killing blow, but I fought like hell so it didn't go very deep.

I suck in a deep breath and force the memories of my attack away. Stressing over it now won't do any good. It happened, and it's in the past. I'm here now, alive, that's what I should focus on.

I peel the scrubs the nurse let me have, since I was brought in naked, off. I fold them up and lay them by the sink since they're the only clothing I have of my own.

I turn the shower on and once it's hot enough; I climb in. I sigh as the warmth cascades down my sore muscles. I stand like that for a while before I finally grab the masculine smelling soap and begin to scrub my body with more force than necessary, almost like I can scrub away the memories. Once my body is red and irritated from my vigorous scrubbing, I begin on my hair. Levi has a three in one soap, the only fault of his I've found so far. Beggars can't be choosers though, and I'm clearly a beggar right now.

Levi's scent surrounds me from the soap and I find myself closing my eyes as I lather my hair. This... connection, I feel towards him is intense. It's like he's an extension of myself, which is odd because I barely know the man. Maybe I got hit in the head harder than I thought and now I'm suffering from brain damage? If so, I don't ever want to be healed.

Once I'm finished bathing, I soak up the warmth of the spray for another minute or two before reluctantly climbing out. I dry off and slip into the clothes Levi left me. They're huge and make me feel like a kid playing dress up in their parents' closet, but it's better than being naked.

I enter the guest bedroom and take in my surroundings. It's calm and cozy, much nicer than where I usually end up sleeping. The bed is queen sized and feels like I'm sitting on a cloud. There's a dresser on the wall in front of the bed and a t.v mounted above it. It's minimal but nice.

I climb under the covers and stare up at the ceiling. How did I get here? This point in my life, I mean. I can almost hear my aunt's monotone voice in my mind, telling me how stupid I am. I hate the wretched woman, but she was right all those years ago when she told me to stay away from Brandon. She told me he was nothing but bad news. Of course me being the affection starved girl I was wouldn't hear any of it.

I wonder if things would have turned out okay for me if I was raised by a loving parent. If care and affection wasn't a hopeless dream and was instead given freely. Maybe then I wouldn't have fallen for the mask Brandon wore. Maybe I would have seen the sinister gleam in his eye and the red flags that flashed above his head like a warning.

He was the big bad wolf and I invited him in with a smile. Until I finally saw his sharp teeth for what they were.

A death omen.

I was raised by my aunt after my parents died in a car accident. I was six years old and had my world flipped upside down. Social workers came and plucked me from my kindergarten class, then I was taken to another state and handed over to an aunt I had never heard of. She wasn't cruel, not really. She didn't abuse me or anything; she was just indifferent. She made sure I had what I needed to survive, but we rarely spoke to each other.

When I mourned the loss of my parents, she placed me in my room and shut the door behind her as she walked away. When I hit puberty and started my period, she threw a box of tampons to me and scrunched her nose up. When I fell out of a tree and broke my arm in fifth grade, she dropped me off at the emergency room and came back a few hours later to pick me up. I didn't take it personally though, that was just her.

The one and only time she ever showed a hint at caring about me in any capacity, was when I brought Brandon home. I was twenty-one and still lived with her because renting a room from her was less expensive than an apartment. I brought Brandon over and respectfully introduced them. That night when he left, she stopped me outside my bedroom door and told me he was bad news. Said that he would get me killed or worse one day and I would be stupid to be with him.

At the time, I was outraged. I thought she was just being a bitch because she didn't want to see me happy. Now I suspect that she and I aren't so different. Maybe she met her own version of Brandon in her youth and that's why she is the way she is.

As I close my eyes and force myself to fall asleep, the singular thought that repeats inside my head is that I should have listened to her.