by Debra Kayn
"Glen?" She grabbed his vest. "What are you saying about our ages?"
"I'm too old for you." He looked down at her hand.
She refused to let go of him. "Says who?"
"Me."
She leaned against him. "I wasn't the one who made the moves on you."
"I thought you were twenty-seven."
"You're going to let a seven-year difference stop you?" She stepped away from him. "I can't believe you," she muttered.
Good. Anger was a good sign she understood.
"You haven't lived your—"
Her bark of laughter pierced him. He rubbed his mouth.
Ingrid looked around her room as if trying to grab on to something that would support her argument. He followed her gaze. She had a room filled with her childhood. Pictures, awards in frames, a few stuffed animals were thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room as if long forgotten, and a ton of makeup and fingernail polish sat scattered on her dresser.
"What if I want to leave?" she whispered.
He cocked his head, his body on alert. "You need to go somewhere?"
"Away." She lifted her hands. "Out of here, so you'll see me again. Really see me, like you had when I stayed with you."
"Ingrid, I —"
"Just..." She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. "Tell me one thing."
He pressed his lips together and the spasm in his lip intensified. She had a way to bring out the best and worst in him.
Her gaze narrowed. "If I was seven years older would you be lying in bed with me, right now, holding me, loving me?"
"In a heartbeat, Blue."
She faced him, and for a rare moment, he was unable to read her emotions. Knowing enough had been said, he walked to the door of her bedroom.
"Glen?" she said, stopping him from leaving.
He stood with his hand on the doorknob. If he turned around, he'd stay. He'd take her to bed and do all those things she'd listed. "Yeah?"
"The first time I saw you, I couldn't stop looking, and it wasn't because you were a biker or sexy or intimidating or any of those things you would imagine. I couldn't look away because I admired your control. I'd never seen a man overpower someone without anger. It was as if you were strong enough to stop yourself from hurting him. It's crazy, but you reminded me of my dad before his accident. The confidence. The control. The enjoyment from living. I was enthralled and seeing you made me happy for reasons I never wanted to think about. And, while I stood there watching you, for one minute, I had a moment where nothing else mattered." She paused. "Then, you kept showing up to save me. The last thing I wanted to do was fall in love or trust someone. I was homeless. I-I'm not even pretty enough to tempt someone to look a second time at me, but you looked, and you made me feel beautiful. I just never imagined that the man who I admired for his control and determination to keep me safe wouldn't have the courage to see past my age."
He opened the door and walked down the hallway. She was wrong about him. He struggled for control every day.
Ingrid's mom stepped out of the kitchen the moment his boots hit the living room, and he had the front door in sight. "Glen?"
He stopped. "Just checking on Ingrid. I'll be leaving now."
"Do you have a moment?" She motioned toward the door. "Can we speak outside in private?"
He dipped his chin, giving his cooperation, and followed her out of the house. Reeling from Ingrid's lecture, he only wanted to leave.
"Thank you for coming and checking in on Ingrid." Anna worked her hands in front of her in worry.
"Not a problem." Glen put a few sunflower shells in his mouth.
"I thought you could help me. I'm concerned about her." Anna separated her hands. "I'm trying to do whatever I can to make her feel comfortable, and she seems distracted. I'm afraid she'll return to Evan. Do you think she will?"
The sunflower shell cracked between his teeth at his surprise. "Has she...talked about contacting him?"
Anna shook her head. "She's so lost. Her appetite isn't the best. She paces. There are times she barely looks at me, and then at odd times she can't stop watching her dad and me, and she appears sad. It breaks my heart to see her still suffering. I don't know what to do."
"It's understandable that there's some adjusting to do. She's only had herself to count on for two years. Hell, even longer, including the time she was with Evan and hiding the fact he was hurting her. For her, that whole time she believed she was taking care of you and your husband by staying away. It was her love for you both that kept her going." He exhaled loudly. "As for the son of a bitch she ran from, she won't contact him. You don't have to worry about that."
"How can you be sure?" whispered Anna.
Because he knew Ingrid better than anyone in her life. She wouldn't throw away a second chance at a life with her family again. He swallowed the sunflower seeds and shells in one gulp. And, Ingrid had fallen in love with him.
Chapter 28
The cell phone rang. Ingrid stretched over to her nightstand, glanced at the caller I.D., and sighed. It wasn't Glen. He hadn't called her in five days since he came over to tell her he wanted nothing to do with her because she was too young.
She connected the call. "Wayne?"
"Hey, Ingrid. I need to run something by you," said Wayne. "I'm with Lieutenant Gomez at the St. John's Police Department, and Officer Kingsley is here with us. He understands that Notus Motorcycle Club has taken a special interest in you and has asked us if you would be agreeable to meeting with him."
She pulled her knees up to her chest. "Why?"
Stewart had been nothing but kind toward her when she was with Evan. When she'd moved into his house, Stewart treated her like family and always went out of his way to compliment the dinner she made or how she cleaned the house. Which was more than what Evan had done.
"He'd like to hear your side of the story." Wayne paused. "In my opinion, you've told enough of what happened between his son and you on the report. You owe him nothing."
In a way, she owed Stewart the truth. Maybe he could get Evan help. The more information Stewart received, the more he'd be aware of future problems. He could watch for any signs of danger that Evan was going to hurt him.
"I'll talk to him," she said.
"Your choice. I'll be at the meeting and will have another Notus member be with you, too. I also want you to meet him at the police department."
The added stress of having to face what she'd done with Stewart and the thought of leaving the house filled her with anxiety. She glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was after eleven o'clock at night.
"Okay. I can meet him in the morning." She could use her mom's car. Far as she knew, her dad's doctor's appointment wasn't until next Wednesday.
"I'll have Glen bring you over now," said Wayne.
A jolt of electricity shot down her spine at the mention of Glen's name. He was at the end of the block. She'd kept an eye on him since he arrived after work. "Now? It's almost midnight."
"I'd feel more comfortable if Notus stays involved and now is a good time for us to be with you. I'll let Officer Kingsley know you're coming," said Wayne.
"Okay." She pressed her hand against her stomach. "I won't be staying long though. I talked to Pauly on the phone today and explained what was going on and why I stopped coming into work. He's agreed to let me go back to work. I owe him for understanding and want to be well rested for tomorrow."
"I'll call Glen and let him know." Wayne disconnected the call without a goodbye or further instruction.
She blew out her breath and walked out of the bedroom. "Mom?"
She stuck her head into her parents' bedroom. Her dad sat in his wheelchair after having slept a few hours earlier. After having trouble breathing laying down, her mom put him back into his wheelchair, hoping to clear his airways. The television was on in front of her dad, the sound low, she could barely make out what her mom had put on the tv for him to watch. Her dad's eyes lifted to hers. She stepped into the room an
d approached him. Kissing his cheek, she inhaled his aftershave. Even after all these years, her mom still made sure her dad was shaved and smelling nice, like his old self.
"It looks like I'm going to talk to Evan's dad." She kneeled on the floor beside the wheelchair and put her hand on her dad's hand. "Evan won't be there."
She imagined how her father would reply if he were able to communicate. "Don't go, Ingrid. Only look forward and move on. Put the past behind you," her dad would say.
"I'll be okay. Glen's going to be there with me." She lifted her dad's hand and pressed her cheek into his palm, though he couldn't feel her, she took comfort from his touch. "Glen saved me once, Dad. More than once. I've never met someone like him. He's not afraid of anything, and he doesn't try to prove he's bigger and better than everyone else. He's just...he's perfect."
She closed her eyes and smiled before looking at her dad again. In her heart, her dad said, "Don't let him go. You deserve to be happy."
"I need to go tell Mom where I'm going. I won't be gone long." She removed her dad's hand, stood, and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Love you."
She walked out of the bedroom and found her mom sitting at the kitchen table cupping a coffee mug, staring into space. Ingrid's step hesitated, and a pang of regret hit her again. A common occurrence lately that left her overwhelmed on how to fix all her mistakes.
"Mom?" She stopped at the table. "Glen will be here in a moment to take me to the police station for a meeting with Stewart. Evan's dad wants to talk about what is going on, and I owe him an explanation."
"Oh, honey." Her mom flattened her hands on the table. "I wish you wouldn't."
"I have to." She kissed her mom's cheek. "I want to put this all behind me, and maybe meeting with Stewart will lighten the worry I have about Evan hurting his dad. If he knows, then he'll be prepared if...well, you know. Maybe he can also talk to Evan and make sure he doesn't contact me."
"It's so late. Why don't you sleep on it and see if you still want to meet him tomorrow?" said her mom.
"It's more convenient for Glen and Wayne if I go tonight."
Her mom scooted the chair back. "Let me get my car keys. You can take the Subaru."
"Thanks, but I'll ride with Glen." She backed out of the room hearing the roar of a motorcycle growing closer. "I won't be long."
"Be careful," whispered her mom.
"I will." She walked into the living room and peeked out the window.
Lit by the porch light, Glen strode toward the door. Her pulse raced. She'd watched him from a distance since he tried to convince her there was no hope of them being together, wishing she could see him better, touch him, and convince him how wrong he was about her.
She moved over and unlocked the knob and undid the deadbolt. Swinging the door open, she stood in front of him. Her eyes went to his eyes and found his heated gaze. She trembled, waiting for him to reach out, so she could put her hands on him.
"Ready?" he asked, his gaze dropping to her chest.
She'd put on one of her mom's hoodies earlier when the weather had changed, and a cool wind came off the coast dropping the temperature down to the sixties in St. John's. Stepping outside, she shut the door. "Yeah, I'm ready."
He put his hand on her back and kept her close, but his body remained rock hard and distant. She glanced over at him. His gaze swept the area. He only touched her because he'd promised to protect her.
The darkness settled around her, reminding her of living on the streets. Once her eyes adjusted, she'd be able to see the shadows and know the hidden dangers.
Glen stopped beside his motorcycle and handed her his extra helmet. She latched the strap in the D-ring in silence, then climbed on behind him. Finally, she could touch him.
She wrapped her arms around him. Tears filled her eyes at the swift warmth of comfort she received when allowed to give him a small amount of affection. The collection of emotions he'd created in her was too hard to contain. At times, the lack of contact coming from him made her sick as if she was pushed into withdrawals. She mourned for the times when they'd share dinner together and when he held her at night. She even missed the way he'd watch her.
She stuck her face square between his shoulders and inhaled deeply. The mix of outdoor freshness and musky leather filled her nostrils, tightening her stomach in pleasure. How could he think a relationship between them was impossible?
Couldn't he feel the pull toward each other when they were close?
Granted, she'd lied when she met him and kept herself from trusting him after he'd more than proven himself. Giving herself to him hadn't been an easy decision. She only had a little to lose before she had nothing.
The motorcycle slowed. She lifted her head off his back. The lights surrounding the police station lit up the night. Glen's hand came back and patted her thigh, signaling her to get off the bike first.
She climbed off and stood. Stewart was inside waiting for her, and she couldn't put two thoughts together when all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Glen and never let go.
Glen looked around the parking lot, palmed the back of her neck, and guided her forward. "You don't leave my side. I don't care if Stewart's the nicest guy in your life, you do not walk away from me. Understand?"
She nodded.
"If he so much as raises his fucking voice to you, I'm taking you out of there," muttered Glen.
He ushered her inside the building without giving her a chance to argue that Stewart wasn't a mean man. He was kind and fair in his job and at home. His only fault was his gullibility when it came to his son.
"I wasn't the one who asked to have a meeting," she whispered. "Don't take it out on me."
"You agreed."
She scoffed. "Because it was better to—"
"Not now," he said, stopping at the back of the lobby.
She gritted her teeth, frustrated over being unable to tell her side of how the meeting with Stewart came to be and that the short time she got to be with Glen, he seemed mad at her for no reason. She had no control over when she was born, and she couldn't wish she was older.
Wayne held the door open to the back offices. "In here."
Glen reached for her hand. She clasped on to him. Together, despite their irritation with each other, they walked deeper into the police station. In one of the rooms, Stewart waited for her.
Chapter 29
Inside Lieutenant Gomez's office, Officer Kingsley stood from the chair at the arrival of Ingrid. Glen held on to Ingrid's hand and kept her beside the open door. One wrong move or upset, and he'd have her outside, on his motorcycle, and tucked safely away at home.
Ingrid's fingers fidgeted inside his hand. He held on tighter. Regardless of her attempt to hide her relationship with him from Evan's father, he was going to shove his involvement in Officer Kingsley's face. He wanted him to see who supported Ingrid. Let him take that information back to Evan.
Nobody was going to get through him and hurt Ingrid again.
"Ingrid." Stewart stepped forward.
Wayne shifted and stood between Ingrid and Stewart. "You asked to talk with her. She's accommodating you. Give her space, or you'll find Notus escorting her out of here."
Stewart gave a brisk nod. "Ingrid? It's good to see you."
Ingrid stepped forward. Glen stiffened his arm, objecting to her moving closer. She shifted her feet keeping her balance as Glen anchored her to his side.
"I'm sorry for what my coming home has caused you, Stewart." Her voice warbled. "I never wanted to cause any upset between you and...and Evan. It's one of the reasons why I left without saying anything."
Stewart rubbed the side of his jaw. "He paid for you to go to cosmetology school."
"No." She shook her head. "I ran away the night you took Evan to the shooting range after buying him a pistol for his birthday. He lied about sending me away to school. I lived on the streets in St. John's and Portland the last two years because of the threats he made toward you and my parents if I told
anyone about what he was doing to me. The only thing I could do to keep everyone safe, including myself, was to run away."
"That can't be true. One of us would've seen you if you were homeless," said Stewart.
Ingrid exhaled. "Normal people don't realize how invisible the homeless are. People walk by us every day without giving us a glance. They step over us at night, pretending we're not sleeping on the cold ground or soaked from the rain. Families enjoying the park move away and eat, laugh, play where they can pretend that we're not digging through the garbage cans looking for anything we can sell or eat."
Stewart dropped his arm to his side. "I have proof you were studying to become a hairdresser. I have two years' worth of emails letting me know how you were doing and how excited you were to graduate soon."
Ingrid dashed away a tear. "My parents mentioned the same thing, but I never sent any emails. I was hiding from Evan. You bought the gun—"
"He would never harm you," said Stewart, his voice louder than before.
Ingrid leaned against Glen. "He did. Many times."
Stewart shook his head.
"Remember when Evan told you that I fell and hit the chair, breaking one of my ribs, and drove myself to the hospital? He bragged about how brave I was to go by myself while he played racquetball with a co-worker." Ingrid sucked in air. "I never fell. Evan threw the chair at me. That's how it broke. That was the first time he hurt me. I never went to the emergency room after that because I was ashamed and scared. My injuries were always kept hidden because Evan threatened to hurt my parents if I told them."
"No..." whispered Stewart. "You fell."
Ingrid looked up at Glen. He squeezed her hand. Her need to have him believe her outweighed her desire to make Stewart believe his son was guilty.