Chapter Six

SIMON

I plug Magnolia’s address into my GPS, hoping I’m wrong about where she lives. Sadly, with every turn, I know I’m not. There aren’t many bad parts of Dogwood, but here on the outskirts of town, it gets a bit seedier, and Magnolia seems to have found herself the most run-down, roach-infested apartment complex there is.

My heart sinks even lower when I see the dilapidated building. It’s more than the peeling paint and overgrown greenery; it’s the drooping roof, the lack of decent locks, the fact that outside her front door, there are two guys making a drug deal.

None of this is sitting right with me. The thought of her being here—living here, sleeping here—burns in my gut.

“Excuse me,” I tell drug dealer number one as I move to slide Magnolia’s key in the lock.

“You don’t live here,” he snarls, looking me up and down.

“You’re right,” I agree. “I don’t.” I slip into her apartment and turn the measly knob lock before he can say anything else.

Unfortunately, the situation inside’s not much better.

The carpet is so dirty that I’m not sure what to even call the color, the dingy wallpaper is peeling, there are water spots on the ceiling, there’s mold visible in two places, and I haven’t even left the living area.

Her bedroom is even worse—barely bigger than my pantry, with a twin-sized mattress on the floor pushed against the far wall and a hanging rack with clothes.

My blood boils at her living conditions, and without thinking about what I’m doing, I start tossing everything I think she’ll need into the duffle bag I brought, even things that aren’t on her list, because if I have any say in it, Magnolia won’t be coming back here.

Once I’ve crammed in everything I can fit, I stalk back toward the front door. I take one last look at the sad excuse for an apartment and step back out into the breezeway, closing the flimsy door behind me. Before I even get it locked, drug dealer number two is in my face. Guess that makes drug dealer one the dealee. “You know the hot little piece that lives here?” My fists clench. “Tell her to holler at me. Been trying to get her to gimme the time of day, but she’s an uptight little bitch. Won’t holler back.”

Without thinking, my vision goes red, and I strike out, landing a punch straight to the douchebag’s jaw, followed by one to his kidney. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t even think about her,” I bark at him as I continue past where he’s doubled over.

Still fuming, I jerk open the driver’s side door and throw Magnolia’s belongings into my back seat. Why would she live like this? My brain cannot reconcile her—always so put-together appearance-wise—living in a dump like this. Add in the fact that she’s so easily intimidated by social situations—hell, even just people in general—and I…shit, it just does not compute.

On the drive back into town, I practice deep breathing to calm my temper down. Sounds lame, but it works—at least it usually does. Now, though, I can’t seem to quell the rage racing through my veins at Magnolia living in such a destitute situation.

Food long forgotten, I race back to the house, ready to demand answers. Jamming in the unlock code, I all but throw the front door open, startling Magnolia in the process.

“Simon!” she exclaims as I dump her meager belongings at her feet.

“Magnolia,” I snarl back at her.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused, which just revs my anger up another notch. How could she possibly think where she was living was okay? And yeah, I said was.

“What’s wrong?” I explode. “What’s wrong is the shithole you live in!”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You basically live in a slum. I watched a fucking drug deal happen less than a foot away from your front door.”

“I-I…um…” she stammers.

“You will not go back there.”

“It’s where I l-live, Simon.”

“Not anymore,” I bark out, causing her to cower away from me.

“O-o-okay,” she says, exhaling as she rises from my recliner. Tentatively, I step toward her, but she quickly moves to the other side of the chair, putting it in between us.

“Fuck,” I mutter when I notice she’s shaking like a damn leaf. “Magnolia,” I murmur as I try to move in closer to her.

“No, please,” she cries as I wrap her in my arms.

“Shh.” I trail my fingers across her shoulder blades, left to right and back again, trying my hardest to ease the fear I put into her.

If I could kick my own ass right now, I would. I always swore I’d never become my father, and here I am letting my temper get the better of me, scaring a woman who’s already damn near afraid of her own shadow. Fuck.

Slowly, I pull back from our embrace, if you can even call it that since Magnolia’s arms are down at her sides with my own enveloping them. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her cheeks are streaked with tears.

“I’m…so…sorry.” I keep my eyes locked on hers. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Goldilocks. You know that, right?” She nods, but her eyes have a far-off look to them.

“S-sure. I…I’m going to go lie down,” she whispers, slinking out of my arms and down the hall before I can stop her.