I shrug because I really don't care what she says as long as she says something. "Anything that you want to tell me, your family, why you got a job here, anything."
She's staring down at her hands as she starts to talk. "I'm pretty sure you've probably heard about my dad. My mom left when I was 10. I haven't seen her since. I live with my uncle over on State Route 39. And the reason I got a job here at The Clubhouse is because I was tired of everyone talking about me at the diner."
Her voice is soft, and I have to lean in to hear her. "Why were they talking about you?"
She rolls her eyes. "Everyone is still is talking about my dad. It’s been ten years, and I’m still known as the murderer’s daughter."
I push my half drink bottle of beer away from me. She looks so tired and so sad. I hate to think that I'm pushing her to stay here when she probably needs a shower and to get some sleep. Even though I could literally sit here all night and just look at her, I know I’m being selfish. I stand up. "Are you ready to go?"
She nods and waves at Scout. I walk her out to the parking lot, holding the door for her, and we don't stop until she's next to her car.
"Thank you again," she starts, but I don't let her finish. "I'm going to follow you home."
She shakes her head, but I swear I see relief on her face. "You really don't have to," she starts, but I interrupt her again. "I insist."
She seems to think about it, and then her eyes widen. "Why? Do you think Axel will..."
I shake my head. "No, you don't have to worry about him. I'm doing it because I want to make sure you're okay. It was a lot that you went through tonight. Come on, let me do this."
She closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and lets it go before opening them and looking at me again. She nods her head, opens her car door, and gets in. Without another word, I walk away. Going over to my bike, I follow her across town. She pulls over to the side of the road in front of a duplex with bars on the windows. I pull my bike right up behind her car, and she's out before I can get off. She walks toward me, and I put my hand on her shoulder, leading her up the walkway. When we get to the porch, she nods at the house. "I know it's not much."
I tip her chin up. "Don't be ashamed. I know how hard you work."
I groan in frustration. I'm pissed off about everything that's happened tonight. I'm pissed off about the past that Brandy's obviously been through. And I'm pissed off that I want to hold and comfort her all night long, and I don't have the right to do that. Not yet. She hears me groan and asks me what's wrong. I shake my head but don't tell her. I want to kiss her, but I know I shouldn't, not tonight. Instead, I answer her, "Nothing, sweet girl. Give me your phone."
She hands it over without hesitating. I put my phone number in. "Call me if you need anything," I tell her. I text my number from her phone so that I'll have hers.
I stare at her for a second. Her head is tilted back, and she's looking at me. The only thing stopping me from reaching for her is seeing her lip busted. "I'll see you tomorrow, Brandy. Remember, you're safe. You have the whole club at your back, but you call me if you need anything."
I wait until she nods her head before I take a step back, needing to put physical space between us before I do something that I know I shouldn't. With one last, long look at her, I step down off the porch and go back to my bike. I sit there and wait for her to go into her house before I drive off.