Page 2 of Cross Checked
They didn’t know she still slept with the television on after nightmares because silence made her panic. Didn’t knowshe checked parking lots before getting out of her Jeep or carried pepper spray tucked inside her purse like a nervous habit she couldn’t break.
Good.
That meant she remembered.
A group of girls pushed through the front doors laughing loudly enough to carry across the street, and Bliss glanced up automatically at the noise. For one brief second her eyes scanned the parking lot instinctively before moving on again.
The corner of my mouth pulled slightly.
She was still looking and fully fucking aware.
That familiar tightness in my chest loosened just enough to let me breathe again.
People liked pretending instincts came from nowhere, but they didn’t. Fear got taught into people. Conditioned there slowly until their body learned danger before their mind caught up.
And Bliss had learned me very well.
The truck smelled faintly like old cigarettes and rain-damp asphalt, humid air drifting through the cracked windows while I kept watching her move behind the bar. Every little thing she did dug deeper under my skin lately. The way she tucked her hair behind one ear while listening. The way she laughed with her whole body when something genuinely caught her off guard. The tiny crease between her brows whenever men flirted too aggressively and she started looking for escape routes without realizing she was doing it.
I noticed all of it.
Always had.
The Bennett family trusted me long before they should’ve.
That part almost made me laugh now.
Ryker used to throw me his keys and tell me to drive her home after parties because “Luke’s a good guy.” Her old man let me stay for dinners. Football games. Backyard barbecues. Holidays. I was practically family before Bliss even understood why I watched her differently than everybody else did.
Sweet little Bliss Bennett.
Always following her brothers around in oversized hoodies and messy ponytails. Loud mouth. Big eyes. Too trusting for her own good. She looked at me like I hung the damn moon back then, and maybe that should’ve been the warning sign.
But nobody warned her.
Nobody protected her from me because nobody thought they had to.
My heartbeat slowed slightly as I watched her bend to grab something from beneath the counter, shirt lifting just enough to show a strip of soft skin above her shorts.
Mine.
The word came quicker this time.
Meaner.
A truck pulled into the lot beside me too fast, headlights briefly flooding the cab with harsh white light before cutting out again. College kids climbed out laughing, one of them already wearing a Fury jersey with MERCER stretched across the back in bold black lettering.
My jaw locked immediately.
Mercer.
I’d heard the name enough lately around town to make me sick of it already. Rich-boy hockey captain. NHL prospect. Campus celebrity. The kind of arrogant little prick girls embarrassed themselves over because he had dimples and money and played a sport people in this town worshipped like religion.
The kind of boy Bliss always swore she hated.
And yet lately his name kept surfacing around her too much for my liking.
A cold pulse moved through my chest.
