Five

Blake’s Pov

I must have closed my eyes for a bit, because when I opened them again, Ridge’s car was stopped in front of an unfamiliar house. It was a modern two-story house with a sleek, clean-lined façade.

This sure wasn’t my house, so I turned to Ridge to see him staring at me. “Huh, where is this place?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away and just kept watching me with that unreadable expression, like he was trying to solve me. Not in a creepy way, but the way someone might study the sky before a storm, trying to gauge if it’s going to break or hold.

“You fell asleep,” Ridge said finally, voice low. “And I didn’t want to wake you.”

Okay, that was… unexpectedly considerate. My insides curled a little at that.

“But this isn’t my place,” I said again, quieter this time, because his tone didn’t invite the sharp edges in me.

“No,” he agreed. “It’s mine.”

I blinked. “Yours?”

“Yeah.”

A pause hung between us, like the breath one takes before a decision. “You didn’t say anything about bringing me here,” I pointed out, my voice tighter now. Because maybe I should’ve been angry, or at least wary, like normal people would. But this wasn't something a girl like me would be wary about. I've been through a lot more than to find this strange.

But then again, I wasn’t exactly normal, was I?

Still, it didn’t mean I would trust a man I had just met a few days ago, whether or not he had helped me out when I was attacked. For all I knew, he saved me to do something bad to me himself… okay, that didn’t make any sense.

“You were out cold,” Ridge said, as if he read my thought. “I didn’t think waking you up just to drop you off in your building was a great idea. After what happened.”

And dammit, that made sense. It made such good sense that I couldn’t even argue with it.

He let out a breath like he was bracing himself. “Look, you can go home if you want. I’ll drive you, no problem. But maybe take a minute first. Get your bearings and eat something.”

The mention of food made my stomach clench. Not from hunger exactly, but from the reminder that I hadn’t eaten since morning. And now that the adrenaline had bled out of me, all that was left was this shaky, hollow feeling that I hated.

I looked at the house again, at the warm lights glowing through the wide windows, the tidy stone path leading to the front door. It was the kind of place that I had only seen in movies, or a drive by through this kind of nice neighborhood.

Fine.

“Just for a few minutes,” I said, stepping down from the truck.

He didn’t smile, not really. But something shifted in his face, like he was relieved he wouldn't have to try to convince me further.

“Just a few minutes,” he agreed, then led the way up the path to the front door.

And even though my brain told me I should still be cautious… still be questioning everything… my feet moved anyway.

Because for the first time in a very long time, my body wasn’t screaming that I was or might be in danger, it was whispering for me to stay.

Inside, everything smelled like cedar and soap. Warm. Clean. Masculine. It made me felt so relaxed even though I had told myself I needed to put up my guard.

All I could do was look around, until Ridge grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the kitchen where he cleaned the bruises I sustained on my elbow, arm, and shoulder, then he said. “You might want to go shower before you eat.”

He stood up and carried the first aid box, then he pointed toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down there. Fresh towels are on the rack. I’ll leave some clothes for you.”

“Ridge…” I started, wanting to ask him why he was doing this because I was honestly confused.

He raised a brow. “Unless you would rather sit in clothes you’ve soiled on the floor of an alleyway.”

At that, I did as he asked and walked to the bathroom. I showered fast, letting the hot water unstick the chill from my bones. When I stepped out, true to his word, a pair of soft sweats and a long-sleeve Henley were folded neatly on the a chair he must have just placed right outside the bathroom.

His clothes. They smelled like him; woodsy and warm, and they swallowed me whole when I pulled them on.

When I stepped back into the hallway, my stomach growled again, so loud I winced.

“Figured you would be hungry.” Ridge’s voice came from the kitchen.

When I walked in, the sight nearly undid me… him barefoot, sleeves pushed up, whipping eggs in a pan like it was the most normal thing in the world.

For a second, I just watched him, until he raised his head to look at me and I looked away. “You look better,” he said simply.

I shrugged. “Clean hair and no alley dust will do that to a girl.” I was surprised my voice didn’t crack.

He gave a low hum, something like agreement… or maybe amusement, I wasn't sure, then he said. “It's a good thing I asked you to shower then.”

“Yeah.”

Then… wordlessly, he slid a plate in front of me. Eggs, toast, cheese. The best thing I had seen in days.

I sat down and inhaled it like I hadn’t eaten in years… which, honestly, wasn’t far off.

Ridge sat across from me, just watching.

His gaze wasn’t invasive, not at all, it was steady. Quiet. Protective in a way I didn’t know how to handle.

Until… just as I was about to ask him why he was being this nice to me; a woman’s voice floated into the kitchen from the front door.

“Ridge? Are you home, sweetheart?”

Ridge’s head fell back with a low groan.

“Oh damn…my mom is here.”

Those six words just about tilted my world on its axis. I don't do Moms, they never liked me. Even mine doesn't like me very much because she thinks I was the reason for her misfortune, like she wasn't the one for mine.