Chapter Five
After saying another thank you to Eric and making sure they had everything Twyla needed, Gunnar carried Twyla back out to the car and buckled her in.
He hated the idea of bringing her back to her house instead of home with him. She didn’t belong with her mom and her step-father. Not if they hadn’t made sure she ate something in the past twenty-four hours. What the hell? He ate kind of like a bachelor, but heateand it was reasonably healthy. It made him grip the wheel so tight his knuckles whitened to think about Twyla going without food for an entire day.
When they arrived at Twyla’s house—a rundown trailer in the worst part of town—Gunnar felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t leave her here. It would be one thing if her family was poor but loving, but they seemed neglectful at best, abusive at worst.
But no matter how easy it was to picture bringing Twyla home with him, tucking her into his bed and nursing her back to health—possibly making her his little girl when she was well and healthy enough to decide on her own—that wasn’t something he could do. He would lose his job for sure and probably his teaching license.
As much as he hated it, Gunnar turned off the car and got out, going to the passenger side to open Twyla’s door and help her out. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and carry her but he couldn’t imagine her parents would react well to that. And given what his other thoughts about Twyla were, he couldn’t blame them.
“Can you walk, sweetheart?”
Twyla looked at him with those big green eyes and swallowed, nodded.
His heart lurched because he knew Twyla wasn’t helpless—he’d seen her throw that punch and he knew she was tough, but no one should have to take care of themselves when they were hurt.
He started rambling off reminders about all the things Eric had told her to do, and she let out a little laugh. “You think I don’t know what to do for a shiner? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten a black eye.”
Gunnar had half a mind to pick her up and put her back in the car right now so he could drive her home, sit her in his lap and rock and cuddle her to sleep. It was maddening that he couldn’t.
They reached the door and before Twyla could open it, Gunnar rang the bell. Didn’t matter if she wanted him to or not, he was going to talk to her parents and give them Eric’s instructions and information. Plus talk to them about the boys who had done this and how they wanted it handled. Since beating the shit out of them wasn’t an option, unfortunately.
Twyla’s skin was soft and warm under his fingertips as he held her against him, wishing he could touch more of her. There was some noise in the trailer; he couldn’t tell if the yelling and sounds of glass breaking were on TV or in person and he struggled to not hold Twyla tighter, he wouldn’t hurt her.
No one came to the door and Twyla turned her head into his shoulder before saying, “It’s okay. I’ll just go in. They’re, um, busy.”
“They shouldn’t be too busy to take care of you.”
He knocked on the side of the loose metal screen door as loud as he could, and shouted, “Anyone home? This is Mr. Fox from Clover Hills High.”
There was some more banging and shouting in the background and he could tell now what was on the television.
Finally the door flew open and a man stood there, soiled t-shirt and dirtier jeans. The smell of stale cigarettes and long-spilled beer wafted out of the trailer, and the man had a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in three days and not in that artful stubble way, but maybe in a he’d-been-passed-out way.
“What’s he want?” called a woman who must be Twyla’s mother.
“Brought Twyla home, looks like she got herself beat up.”
The man reached out and grabbed Twyla’s upper arm, yanked her toward him and she cried out as he gripped her too hard where she’d already been hit.
Gunnar ground his teeth together because this wasn’t okay.
“Sorry about that, Mr., uh…”
“Fox. Gunnar Fox. I’m a teacher at Twyla’s school. There were some boys who assaulted her. I’m glad I was nearby because—”
“Asking for it again were you?”
Gunnar could smell the man’s breath and body odor from where he stood and he wanted to wring the man’s neck.
“It was completely their fault,” he started, hands itching to grab Twyla and take her away from this place.
The man laughed and pushed Twyla inside where she fell to the floor. Gunnar had half a mind to push past the man but he couldn’t. No matter how much he hated it, there was nothing he could do.
“You don’t have to make excuses for this dumb cunt. She’s been flirting with boys since before she had tits and she won’t take no for an answer. Trust me, I know.”
The leer on the man’s face was disgusting and that was it. Gunnar prided himself on his patience. Had to have a lot of it because he dealt with hormonal adolescents all goddamn day, and he rarely lost it. Like maybe once a school year. But this guy…this guy had done it in the course of less than five minutes.
Gunnar knew if he left Twyla here, she not only wouldn’t get the care she needed, she might get punished for being a victim. There was no way in hell they’d let her rest and follow up with all of Eric’s instructions and he couldn’t stand the idea of her getting worse or, god forbid, dying if Eric had missed something or she developed new symptoms or…
No.
All sense left his mind and his heart took over. Twyla was his now, and he wasn’t going to leave her here. She was coming home with him, no matter what it took to get her there.