Destined Love

Destined Love - Chapter Twenty Nine

Should I be grateful to Ariella for taking a beating for me?

I'd no doubt be in a jail cell right now if it weren't for the deal she made with Mike. But how can I be remotely thankful when my freedom is in the result of a battered and bruised girl? She took her promise to the extreme, whereas I had no intention on keeping the promise I made to her. The assurance Ariella gave me that night had a negative outcome—mine would have, too; it was part of the reason I decided against it.

Now that I know what she has to suffer through, there's no way I'd agree to ignore the fact. I might want to distance myself from her for my own sanity, but I won't until I know I've helped her escape the abuse. After tonight, I might have to force my way back in, but there'll be no obstacle I won't face—not until Ariella is safe and free.

Not even the resentment she's developed towards me will get in my way.

Confident of my still-in-motion plan, I focus on the pelleting rhythm of the rain. With my windshield wipers now on full speed, I guide my truck down Cole's street. The road is already drenched, pot holes are filled with water. Seconds later, I ease my car in behind Cole's along the gravel driveway. The pebbles of rain escalate into a downpour; the liquid fog relaxes my muscles.

Ambling towards the house, I'm in no rush for cover. Eventually I step through the front door, and as it swings closed behind me, I lean forward slightly and shake out my wet hair.

"What are you, a dog?"

At the familiar mocking overtone, my jaw clamps tight. I lift my head to find Sally on the edge of Cole's La-Z-Boy recliner. Her magenta nails are almost blinding as they curve around a feminine magazine. I have enough time to flip her the bird before Cole steps into view with a glass of coke in each of his hands; the condensation slides down between his fingers, creating miniature versions of the rain drops outside.

"I was gettin' worried," Cole intones, handing his girlfriend her drink.

"I can tell." My words drip with sarcasm as I send a look of disgust at Sally.

He frowns. "Is everything fine?"

I give a light shrug. "For now."

"I hope so." His lips curve into a genuine smile. "Now go change before you drench my floor."

Swinging a look at Sally, I almost laugh. "Since when do you care about your floor?"

"Since when has he not?" Her attitude towards me is amusing.

Cole sends me a pointed shut the fuck up look, to which I give him a known smirk.

"Let's just say the floor is a colourful canvas when you're not around, chica."

A heavy huff leaves her bright red lips, the magazine in her hands disregarded as she directs Cole with chestnut eyes in an icy gaze. I merely smile as the fireworks begin. Leaving them to it, I shuffle out of my shoes and stroll towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. After locking the door, I strip bare and step into a semi-warm shower and reach for the soap. When the suds travel down the drain and the scent of rain is washed from my hair, I turn the water taps off and wrap a towel around my waist.

The remnants from the shower dribble from my damp hair and down my exposed torso as I saunter out into the kitchen. After reaching into the fridge for a can of Corona Beer, Sally turns around in her seat at the soft thunk of the refrigerator—Cole remains immersed in the TV. Her upturned nose crinkles at the sight of me, a look of distaste accentuating the lines of her hard face.

Obviously a forced and fabricated reaction.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't a boys locker room," she sneers.