UNEDITED
Calla Henrik's family runs the best ATV business in town, and she's ready to take over the family business for the summer while her parents go on a much-needed vacation. She's ready to earn some money before she attends the University of A...
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Calla
I don't see Maddox until early the next morning, and it's not until after I've finished my usual morning routine and changed into my gear that he saunters over to the trailer with his dirt bike. As soon as I see him, I want to ask why he didn't just ride over, but when he looks up at me beneath the visor of his hat, I understand why.
Instantly, I feel sick to my stomach. He's tried to cover them up with makeup but he's failed miserably at blending it with his skin. There's a definitive line along his cheek and a slight patch of discolouration where he's applied the makeup. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, our gazes connecting.
Ashamed, Maddox sighs and turns his attention to his bike; he leans the bike away from himself and pushes the kickstand down into the dirt. "I thought he was going to be gone," he mumbles. "And when he got home, I tried to avoid him."
Deciding that the trail up to Terrace Mountain can wait, I grab Maddox's hand and tug him towards the trailer. "Come with me," I say.
He stumbles as he follows me, his steel-toed boots knocking against the rocks that line the pathway. When we're at the metal stairs to the trailer, we both stop to remove our boots. It takes a couple of minutes due to the complicated straps, but as soon as we're done, I grab his hand, noting how calloused his palm his and how warm his skin is, and guide him into the trailer. I close the door behind us and tell him to sit on the couch while I go and grab my makeup bag. If Maddox isn't going to do anything to combat his father, then someone needs to show him how to properly apply makeup so people don't question him.
When I step back into the seating area, he's got his elbows resting on his knees, his face in his hands. My heart lurches for him. I wish there was a way I could prevent this from happening to him. Removing a couple of makeup remover wipes, I hand them to Maddox. "Wipe your face for me. I would do it, but I don't know how sensitive the bruises are."
Maddox complies, gently scrubbing his face while I get my makeup in order. It's kind of gross to share my makeup brushes with him, but I'm past the point of caring at the moment. After what he went through last night, he needs some aid. If he doesn't want Vance or anyone else to question what happens to him, then I'm going to help him.
I kneel down in front of Maddox and reach for my primer and the brush I always use to apply it. "This," I say, tipping his chin up. His eyes are filled with sadness, with regret. I can't imagine the toll this has taken on him – especially when he meant no harm. "Is a moisturizing primer. It creates an extra layer between your skin and helps the makeup last longer." I search his face, noting how prominent the bruises are and how there's a pattern of what I would guess to be knuckles against his cheekbone. I gesture to the brush. "May I?"
He sighs, giving me a curt nod.
I squeeze some of the primer onto the brush. I'm hesitant to touch his face – I don't want to hurt him – but I take a deep breath and stroke the smooth brush against his face. He flinches when the bristles touches his skin. "Sorry," I whisper.
