We slammed the doors, and Charles roared to life. Indie drove out of the parking lot, and I watched him. The more I looked at him, the more everything started to hit me.
“Indie...” I tried to get my words, but everything sounded alien “What...Where, where are we going?”
He didn't look at me, “Your house. It's closer.” He turned the blinker on, and we turned on to Whitman Way.
I started again, “Were you really going to fight him?”
“If it came to that.” He said, his voice low, “I was trying to protect you.”
“Why? I could have handled it.”
“Because.”
Eyes still on the road, he slowed the car down as we reached my house. Charles grumbled to a stop, and I opened the passanger's side door; jumping out, I walked up to the front door. I lifted my keys out of my pocket, reaching for the doorknob. It took me a minute to realize Indie hadn't followed me.
I turned, calling “I might be upset, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to come in.”
Leaving the door open, I hung the keys on the hook and made my way to the sink. I undid my ponytail, shaking out the egg and bits of food that had been stuck there.
“You're honestly upset with me?” He asked, his voice even as he walked toward me. My hands shook, and I looked up at him, my eyes burning.
“No.” I said, sighing “I'm mad at myself.”
He reached out, brushing my hair away from my neck “Why on earth would you be?”
I felt my lips quiver, and I closed my eyes, speaking through grit teeth “Because I should be tougher than this. I should have been the one to push Matty. I shouldn't need you to show up and save me.”
“Dawson.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, kissing my cheek. I gripped the sink, shaking and crying as nose followed the line of my jaw, down my neck. He kissed the curve my neck, and I felt his hands reach. Glancing in the window, I saw his hands, the reflection making them look as if they were part of my body. He unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it away from my shoulders, balling it up on the counter. I felt his lips against my shoulder, so soft and careful, and heard the soft hum of his voice in my ear.
This only made my heart beat faster, my tears relentless. Finally, I turned around, shaking my head “I...I have to...” I pointed, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He didn't call after me, and I didn't hear the door.
Walking into the bathroom, I blasted the shower and threw my clothes on the floor. I was just so angry; at Matty, at the people in the restaurant, and at myself. Standing in the stinging heat, I rinsed the food out of my hair, watching everything fall away. Meticulously, I washed my hair, scrubbed myself clean, and allowed the water rinse all the bad parts down the drain.
Drying off, I walked through the door to my bedroom. This was not one of those times I wanted to put regular clothes back on. I wanted my sweatpants and my favorite t-shirt. Pulling my hair back in a loose ponytail, I put on a pair of socks and padded through the hallway, down the stairs.
And there he was. He was sitting in my Dad's chair, with my copy of The Book Thief, not making a sound. I smiled, “You're still here.”
“Of course.” He looked up, closing the book and placing it on the table. I sat on the couch, tucking my knees underneath, and watching him smile. He shook his head, “Nope. Come here.”
YOU ARE READING
Hometown Hero
Teen FictionDawson Bennet never had a permanent home. Traveling from restaurant to restaurant with her dads, no town held her in one place long enough to get comfortable with anyone. And signs don't look good, now that she's become acquainted with Indie, the to...
