Page 10 of Timelessly Ours
I flex my jaw. “I’m not your enemy, Nicole.”
“Where’d you find me?” She doesn’t look at me when she asks. But appears to be deathly afraid of the answer.
I sigh. “You move fast, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Where?”
“About midway through the side street of Main and Twelfth.” She wasn’t exactly passed out. But she’d settled herself in a spot by a parking meter, leaning against the pole.
The bottle beside her empty.
I’m not sure how much of it she drank, but I know it wasn’t all of it. A lot was spilled around her, and I wonder if it was intentionally dumped.
“So, about three blocks away.”
My brows twitch. “You remember being at Sylvie’s last night?”
She nods. “Up to a certain point.” She glances at me and covers her face, groaning. “I must have been a hot mess.”
I was so relieved to find her…somewhat conscious and in one piece…that I didn’t care what she looked like. Just that I’d found her. She was safe. I’d carried her back to my truck, put her in the backseat and drove home.
To keep things completely confidential, I relieved the sitter for Rory before bringing Nicole inside.
“You’re safe, Nicole. That’s all that matters.” I don't mean for it to sound as biting and heartless as it probably does, but I don’t know how she can be so concerned with how she must have looked instead of being relieved I didn’t find her half-dead from alcohol poisoning.
“Is Rory home?” she asks after a moment.
Since her release from rehab, Nicole’s been working on certain improvements in her life, including who she chooses to spend time with. That being her brother and the team and my oldest daughter, Angel. So naturally, she’s around my little girl, Rory, quite often.
“She’s in school.”
“Would have been nice to see a friendly face. She’s the only one in town who doesn’t judge me.”
She’s right about one thing. I’m no friendly face. I used to be—with her. Especially after learning the full story about her past from her brother, who spent many nights after aggressive games in my office telling me the source of his rage on the ice.
Not the Nicole Kane story heard through the grapevine over the years. Not the one that’s been lost in translation. The real story—from his point of view. I’d have given anything to hear her version of it, though.
Nick’s version is that Nicole didn’t just develop all her problems by hanging around the wrong group of people. That lifestyle was forced on her. When, at the age of sixteen, her mother, Terry—who was involved with some drug dealers, left Nicole as collateral when she was being threatened for money she owed. Terry was gone for one hour. One hour. It was all it took for Nicole’s life to be ruined. They didn’t rape her.
But they did touch her.
Since she was scared shitless, they shot her up just to calm her down. No one knows if she was violated in other ways after that. The whole thing still makes my blood boil.
Luckily, when they were seventeen, Jace’s dad, Bruce, helped enroll both Nick and his sister in Taekwondo, when he realized self-defense was necessary. Nick and Jace spent more time at the local ice rink than karate, but Nicole broke the town’s record, earning her blackbelt in six months.
Unfortunately, her defensive, badass attitude attracted the wrong group of friends, and it was all downhill from there. It was almost like she thought she didn’t deserve better.
Her beauty was her curse. Long dark hair, bright green eyes, high rosy cheekbones, and a smile—if you’re ever so lucky to see it—fucking breathtaking.
Tearing my eyes off her, I step to the door. “She’ll be home at three. I’ll take you to Nick’s after.”
She frowns. “Nick's?” The stubbornness in her eyes is suddenly replaced with panic. “Royce, you can’t—” She swallows. “You can’t tell him how you found me. You can’t tell him I…relapsed.” Liquid fills her eyes and the pleading in her voice slices through me. “Please.”
If that wasn’t enough, she pulls on the arms of my long-sleeved shirt, lifting her chin to me like I’m her only lifeline.
“Nicky,” I rasp, her hands on me making it hard to breathe.
“Please, you can’t. Just take me to my apartment. I’ll be fine. You can search my place. I don’t care. Just please don’t tell my brother. I’ve been trying—I’ve been so good for two years.” Her voice breaks. “I didn’t even want it last night. I was just—so angry with all of you…”
