Finding Home

Chapter 10

"What kind of music do you like, Wyatt?" he asks, driving with his left hand, and his eyes on the road. 

"Um, anything really other than rap," I murmur with my cheeks tinting a light pink, and I have no idea why I'm embarrassed.

Troye hums in response as he turns the radio to a station that is playing hip-hop, which I'm pleasantly surprised he likes this genre. When the song 'You and I' by One Direction plays, I shocked, pleasantly might I add, when he sings along quietly. 

"You like One Direction?" I excitedly ask, bouncing in my seat to the song. 

"Love the band, along with them as solo artists," he grins at me quickly before returning his attention to the road. "Do you like them, too?"

"The band and individually, too," I agree, still seat dancing until the song ends. "Do you have a favorite of the five guys?" 

Troye hums for a second before replying; "Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan were the two that caught my attention first. Then Liam Payne, Harry Styles and Zayn Malik. What about you?" 

Blushing eventhough I know he cannot see; "Me, too. I love Louis and Niall's playfullness, Liam's caring personality, Harry's Bambiness, and Zayn's mysteriousness."

Troye's smile widens at my words, and I feel as if his face is going to split in two at any minute. 

"You are such a breath of fresh air, Wyatt," he softly comments, earning a shy chuckle from me, along with my blush darkening. 

"Thanks," I whisper, placing my cool hands onto my inflamed cheeks, trying to calm myself down. "Why did you become a police officer?" 

"I wanted to help people like those who helped me and my mom," he answers immeditly. "When I was 5-years-old, my step-dad was beating my mom while screaming at her, and I tried to stop him. He smacked me so hard, that I was flung back a few feet into a cabinet in the kitchen where they were arguing. That knocked the wind out of me for a few minutes, but when I could stand, I grabbed mom's cell off the floor where it was dropped, ran to the bathroom, where I locked myself, and called 9-1-1. I had just learned about calling 9-1-1 in school, and I asked the woman who answered for help."

My jaw drops as my eyes widen like saucers at his story, and tears spring into my eyes as he finsishes; "When the four officers arrived, two dealt with Harold, my step-dad, one officer helped my mom, as the fourth officer came to the bathroom door, and calmly talked to me until I came out, and he held me tightly as I sob myself to sleep in his arms. I was given a plastic police badge for being brave, and I wore that everyday for two years. I knew then that day, I wanted to become an officer to help people like mom and I."

By the time he's finished, I'm a sobbing mess at the image of a little Troye being struck hard, witnessing his mom being beat, and trying to help her. I feel the car pull over to the side of the road and park before Troye's arms wrap around me, pulling me to his upper body over the arm rest between us, as I dig my face into his neck until I'm calmer.

"I'm sorry for crying," I mumble, my face still burried into his warm neck that smells wonderful with his natural scent, and Axe body spray. 

"Don't be sorry, but I am sorry for making you cry," he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath fanning my skin, causing my whole body to shiver in delight. "Are you better now?"

Nodding, I pull away from his warmth and safety, and give him a warm smile; "Yes, thank you."

"Good, shall we continue to our destination?" he asks with a smirk and a wink.

"Yes, please," I reply with a low chuckle, while wiping my face free of the moister, as he straightens himself in his seat, and merges back into traffic when it's safe.