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I’m almost trembling from the lashing, brutal rage.
“Who hurt you?” I growl.
She presses her thighs together. I’m close enough to hear her quick intake of breath. “No one.”
My anger tightens to the point of explosion. I lift my head and spit through gritted teeth. “Who. Hurt. You?”
Her delicate throat bobs and she glances away from me, not saying anything.
My mind snaps.
I’m going to kill him. Whoever he is. I’m going to make sure he never walks, never talks, never breathes again.
Pushing away from the counter, I start to leave when Clarissa calls, “Cody.”
I stop abruptly.
“Can you not,” she blows out a breath and fights to get the words out, “can you not go yet?”
The rage is roaring, crackling in my veins.
But Clarissa comes first.
I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak right now.
“We can watch a movie,” she suggests tentatively.
I dip my chin again.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll pop some popcorn.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No.” She opens the cupboard. Her fingers clench around the handle. Her smile falters for a second. “I need to do it.”
Is she trying to stay busy so she doesn’t think about whoever bruised her face?
Another flash of anger churns in me, tearing through my patience.
I force it back. “You have wine?”
“In the fridge.”
I open her refrigerator and see a bunch of expired cartons, moldy vegetables, and a half-finished bottle of cheap merlot. Pursing my lips, I remove the wine and pour it into two glasses.
The microwave beeps.
“Popcorn’s ready,” she announces.
We settle into the couch with our popcorn and wine. Clarissa takes the seat on the opposite end of the couch.
The movie starts.
She keeps fidgeting and changing her posture as if trying to find the perfect position.
“Just come over here,” I growl.
Her eyes meet mine and a flash of sheepishness passes through them. “I’m good.”