Bound to Her - Deborah Pin (books for 9th graders .TXT) 📗
- Author: Deborah Pin
Book online «Bound to Her - Deborah Pin (books for 9th graders .TXT) 📗». Author Deborah Pin
water from her leaky faucet, the furnace as it kicked on, the creak of her
old pipes, the long tendril-y branches of the overgrown bushes outside her window as they brushed along the siding. There were just too many
quiet sounds. But eventually she did fall asleep. And when she woke in
the morning she was still alive.
The next few days tumbled by without incident and the feeling that perhaps the worst was over inched into her mind just a bit more with every passing hour. She wanted to think it was over and every minute that passed with more nothing made it easier and easier to think, to rationalize and then eventually—after a while or so—to fully believe it was just plain over and that belief was extremely comforting. Part of her
thought it was contrived and just her way of finding peace and sleep—
part of her thought it might be real.
She’d followed Dillon’s request to take public transit to her
Wednesday-night class that week, though she was struggling to fathom
why at this point. It was uneventful at best, minus the exceptionally foul
smell of the woman sitting next to her on the bus. Class was equally uneventful.
She stopped in the registration office before the start of class and asked for Josh Grant’s personal contact information, and they handed it
over without question. When he approached her as the other students were filing out of the classroom at the end of the night, she almost felt guilty. His head was down and he was holding a piece of paper in his hand.
“I made this for you.” His eyes stared at her desktop and he dropped
the paper in front of her. She reached for it, trying to hide the tremble in her hand. They were alone at this point and she was nervous. Josh was
an odd duck if nothing else and Dillon had her afraid of the poor man at
this point. She unfolded the paper and gasped.
It was stunning. Nothing more than a simple ink drawing on a single
white sheet of copy paper but it was her. It was an amazing likeness of
her. Not a posed or glamorous drawing, just her staring off at some distant point. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t frowning, she was just…
being. Her heart thumped and she lost her ability to stifle the tremor in
her hand any longer.
“Josh, this is beautiful. I had no idea you were an artist.” She was trying to sound casual and as nervous as she was she was just as amazed
by the talent she was looking at.
“Was…uh…who was…was that guy yours? No—no, no… Like was
he your boyfriend…last week?”
“Oh.” Her pause was ridiculously long as she contemplated. “Yes.”
She blurted it out as her eyelids fluttered. That meant she was lying.
Thank God he didn’t know that. She sniffled and looked away quickly.
That was lie sign numero dos. She cleared her throat nervously as she stood and gathered her belongings.
“That’s nice.” His face dropped and he turned from her with his head
down. Her heart was racing and she was starting to panic. He walked from her without a sound and she waited until he was out the door
before she sank into her chair and started breathing deep calming breaths of air.
When Dillon burst into the room, she shrieked in shock and he rushed
to her, pulling her to her feet. He held her at arm’s length, turning her face, touching her skin and pulling back, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She grabbed his wrists and stilled the panic in his
touch.
“What the fuck was he doing in here with you alone? I got here as your students were leaving. I didn’t realize he was still in here with you.
I was just waiting for you in the hall when I saw him leave. Did he touch
you?” His panic hadn’t abated an ounce.
“He didn’t do anything. He gave me a picture.” She wasn’t doing
very well at controlling her own panic either. The man had done nothing.
Nothing but given her an incredible picture. He was odd. He was very odd but he’d done nothing. Dillon studied the picture in his hand and she watched him. “I have his information.”
“Good.” He didn’t even look up from her likeness on the piece of paper as he spoke the word. His jaw tensed and clenched as she watched
his face.
“Why are you here, Dillon?” Again he didn’t seem interested in
pulling his gaze from the picture.
“I wanted to see that you got home all right. Come on. I’ll drive you.”
The weather was warm for early spring though the sun was long gone
and as he walked her from the building, they strolled. He didn’t say where he was parked and she just followed his lead, meandering slowly
down the sidewalk.
When a skateboarder nearly took her out, he clutched her upper arm
and swiftly pulled her body into his. It left her gasping as her palm met
the hard clenching muscles of his stomach to steady herself. Even with a
t-shirt on it was easy to feel the definition of his abdomen and it was all
she could do to pull from him.
He stared down at her. It was nearly a glare as he fought his own battle. She could see it in the way his intense eyes held hers, refusing to
look away but refusing to let his expression soften either. He was trying
to remain in control and not falter—but he wanted to falter as much as she did.
He was parked two blocks away and when his hand met the small of
her back as he rounded the car with her, she inhaled a rushed breath and
he instantly pulled back from her. He eyed her carefully as she climbed
in.
The phrase “walking on eggshells” suddenly had new meaning. It
was what they did with each other. It was as if her every movement was
somehow offset by his. If she touched, he pulled back. If she gasped he
held his breath. If she looked, he looked away. He was trying so hard to
undo her every reaction to him and it was so telling. She wasn’t offended. He wouldn’t be doing it if he wasn’t trying to hide what he really wanted to do, which was match her every move, every gasp, every
touch. It was an incredible turn-on to some degree and it was incredibly
painful in another.
Once he was sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, she turned to him.
“What if it’s over?” He cocked his head at her as his eyes narrowed. “I mean couldn’t it be? It’s been nearly three weeks, nothing’s happened, maybe nothing will. Maybe he was scared off and…”
He studied her, his jaw clenching. She could tell he was frustrated with her but it wasn’t anger. “That’s a very enticing notion but I don’t think you can afford to think that way.” He’d shifted his body toward her and he’d not even bothered starting the car. “You say a few weeks as
though that means something. A few weeks is nothing. This man
watched you for months. There’s no doubt in my mind. So what’s a few
weeks to a man who has invested a few months on you already?”
She shivered at the thought. But she didn’t want to believe that was
true and she shook her head, opening her mouth to argue.
“Don’t.” He silenced her quickly. “You’re not the first witness who’s
wanted to trade her circumstances for something a bit less horrifying.
You’re rationalizing, you’re compensating and you can’t afford to be that
careless with your life.”
Her mouth hung open at the harshness of his words. Nothing he’d
said was cruel or mean. It was just honest and devoid of any
sugarcoating whatsoever.
“I just thought maybe…” Her eyes shifted out the window and when
they shifted back, she caught his outstretched hand as his fingers curled back and he redirected his hand to the steering wheel. He’d wanted to touch her but he wouldn’t.
After he dropped her off at her side door, she walked inside and he
walked down to the patrol officer’s car to speak with him. She watched
him from the living room window, and he stayed there for many minutes
until turning and walking back up her driveway. She half expected him
to knock on her door and come in. but he didn’t. When she heard his car
start her heart sank.
Chapter Twelve
He managed to avoid her for the next week. And he hated every
minute of it. He didn’t call her, he didn’t seek her out, he didn’t text—
hell, he didn’t even go inside the school the couple afternoons he was able to pick Seth up. But the following Tuesday afternoon, he hurt her anyway.
“Dad, Jake and I want to go play soccer after dinner. Aunt Molly already said Jake could go.” Seth was approaching him as he stood by his
SUV outside the school. He was looking at Dillon expectantly, waiting for an answer. Answer? Hell, Dillon was still waiting to hear a question.
“Was any part of that supposed to sound like it had a question mark
on the end of it?” He cocked his head to the side as he watched his son.
Seth was a really good kid and Dillon was determined to keep him that
way. He’d witnessed entirely too many kids who should have known
better start taking steps in the wrong direction and there wasn’t a chance
in hell that was going to happen with his son.
Seth threw his book bag on the floor of the front seat as he climbed in
and Dillon closed his door. But he froze the second he turned to round the car. She was there, standing up near the entrance doors to the school,
watching him.
She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t doing anything at all except pinning him to his spot with her incredible eyes. He swore he could see the blue
even from twenty-five yards away. Her hand was half raised in a casual
attempt to wave at him. He should say something to her but he panicked.
Every time he tried to just be a detective around her he caught himself
being a man. So instead of letting that happen he ignored her, looked away and rounded the car to his side. He refused to look at her. That was
until he was pulling away from the curb and stole a quick glance in the
side mirror. Her head was down, looking at the ground. He didn’t need
to see those beautiful blues to know she was hurt. Fuck. It was the last thing he wanted to do to her but he couldn’t seem to behave himself with
her.
“So can I go?”
“Yeah, sure.” He was barely thinking when he said the words.
“Really? That’s it? You just said yes, you know that, right? You can’t
unsay it.” Seth was speaking a hundred miles an hour.
“What?” Dillon was confused.
“You just said I could go play soccer with Jake after dinner.” Seth sounded suspicious and Dillon was still—well, confused.
“I did?”
“Dad!”
“Fine. Yeah. You can go as long as your homework is done but in the
future ask, don’t tell and say please. I promise it’ll get you further in life.” Seth hated it when he lectured but at the moment, Seth was a bit too
jazzed about soccer to give a shit if his dad wanted to lecture.
“Okay. So uh, what’s up with you? I mean like no offense, Dad, but
you’re acting kinda weird.” Seth was giving him that chastising look that
said he thought his dad was crazy. Dillon was very familiar with it.
“Why? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” He was practically stuttering.
“I saw you looking at Ms. Page.” Dillon tensed at nothing more than
her name. “Do you like my teacher, Dad?”
Seth was watching him and his face was oddly serious for a kid of thirteen. “I mean, it’s okay with me. She’s really pretty cool for an old person.” Old person? Dillon almost laughed. She was seven years
younger than he was and his son thought of her as an old person. Then
again Seth probably thought of his dad as geriatric.
“I don’t have a crush on your teacher, Seth.” He said it sternly, hoping
to mask the blatant lie but given the look on Seth’s face—that look that
made Dillon think his son was rolling his eyes without actually rolling his eyes—
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