Preacher Man // ross lynch + driver era

118

"Babe, you know that's not even somewhat true," he immediately says once the silence fills the car.

I glance outside my window, watching Danielle walk into the store as she speaks on her phone.

How much of a conversation can I have with him while he's high?

I just feel like we keep going in circles. I can't help but look at the 'coincidence' that every time he's high, he was with Danielle.

I don't know what power that girl has over him, but it pisses me off.

"Baby," he whispers, rubbing his knuckles against my bare knee. "Talk to me."

My eyes graze back over to his hands that still have blood on them and I know he's being careful to not get it on me. But his way of love is so physical and touchy especially when he knows I'm hurting.

Rydel turns her head to look at us as Rocky is driving home. "Slide that in the back pocket," she murmurs, pointing to the bag.

I pick it up off his lap and place it behind the seat until we can get it disposed later.

His eyes are locked on the side of my face just waiting for me to look at him.

I don't even know how to feel.

This contract needs to end. I can only imagine the phone call Ross will make tomorrow to his publicist.

"Please," he whispers a beg, his voice sounding strained.

I look up at him. "At home."

We are so close to being there, there's no point in this conversation happening right here in front of his siblings. I don't know how it's going to go and it's not fair to subject them to it.

"I think you should shower in the studio so dad doesn't even somewhat see you in bloody shit," Rocky suggests.

I could only imagine the questions he would ask. I'm assuming there will be a big news story about the shooting, but as long as they aren't tied to being there then it'll be fine.

"I'll go upstairs and grab some clothes and meet you back there," I tell him once we pull up to the house. "I'll come with you first so you don't have to touch anything."

I take the small baggy and put it into my bra. I don't have pockets and I do not want Mark seeing me with that.

We go our separate ways as I trail behind Ross through the backyard. I open the door to the studio and he follows in, heading straight to the bathroom door. He manages to turn on the faucet so I squeeze by him to pump some soap into his hand, the bloody water slowly making its way down the drain.

I could have lost him.

He could've gotten hurt in there and I could have lost him.

By the time he looks back down at me, there are tears streaming down my face, but I keep my face to the sink to not draw attention.

I'm emotional, I can't help it.

"Baby, I'm sorry, come here," he immediately says, wrapping his arms around my waist.