Page 3 of Hero After Midnight (Gibson Hollow)

Ramsey

I sat in my truck, parked at the curb down the street from Bodie and Alia’s apartment.

The engine was off, windows cracked just enough to let in the bite of October.

I hadn’t slept. Not even a little. My body was dead tired, but my brain refused to quit.

It kept looping back to last night like it was trying to burn every second into my skull.

I’d come so damned close to going back.

After I’d walked Alia home, after I’d made sure her light was on and that she was safe behind a locked door, I’d stood in this exact spot with my hands clenched and the overwhelming urge to march back into Whiskey Jack’s and do what she hadn’t let me do in the moment.

Wreck Jeff Barrett.

It would’ve been easy. One swing. One hit.

I had the reach to put him on the ground before he even saw it coming.

Not that a single punch would be remotely sufficient retribution.

The guy deserved to be beaten bloody for what he’d done to her.

But then I’d heard her voice again—that quiet, frayed “Please, don’t.

I just want to go home.” Like it hurt her to say it.

Like keeping me from throwing a punch was the last bit of control she had.

So I didn’t.

I didn’t, and it killed me.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face when she ran into me—shocked, pale, like someone had pulled the floor out from under her. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even flinched, but it had been there in her eyes. Hurt she hadn’t meant anyone to see.

And yeah, I’d felt it. That sharp, hot twist in my gut. Not just because of what that asshole had done, but because she’d looked like she was trying to hold the whole damn world together with duct tape and willpower, and she wasn’t going to let him—or anyone else—see her break.

She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t yelled. She’d just walked out, spine straight and eyes dry, and that probably gutted me more than if she’d thrown a drink in his face. That was Alia. Strong as hell. Always handling it, even when she shouldn’t have to.

I’d never liked Barrett—the smug, arrogant prick, with his fake charm and desperate need for attention.

But I figured if Alia saw something in him, maybe he had some redeeming qualities I was missing.

Hell, she’d been with him for almost a year.

I’d wanted to believe she was happy. That he was good to her.

That she’d picked someone who deserved her.

Clearly I’d been wrong.

Now all I could think about was what she must’ve felt walking into that bar and seeing him publicly, unapologetically disrespecting her. As if she didn’t matter. As if she didn’t even exist.

He hadn’t known she was there. That much had been painfully obvious.

But plenty of others had seen. I wondered if someone had told him after she left.

I wondered if she’d called or texted to end things after she’d gone inside last night.

There was no question it was over. She’d never take the asshat back after that.

I just wasn’t sure if she’d gotten to it yet.

I shifted in my seat and rubbed a hand over my face.

The sun was barely up. Her apartment was still dark, except for the soft porch light over the stoop.

I wasn’t here to talk to her. That wasn’t the plan.

I’d made myself stay put because I didn’t want to make her feel worse.

She’d been mortified last night. The last thing she needed was to see me hovering, reminding her of everything she was trying not to feel.

Still… I couldn’t leave without seeing her. Just once. Just to make sure she was okay. So I sat there in the truck, engine off, watching the front door like it might offer some kind of answer. And when it finally opened, and she stepped outside, I felt my grip tighten on the wheel.

She looked tired. Not just sleep-deprived, but worn thin—as if she hadn’t quite patched herself back together from last night. But she was up. Hair tied back in that no-nonsense way of hers. Backpack slung over one shoulder.

And she was wearing my hoodie.

It hit me like a linebacker.

The thing absolutely swallowed her—sleeves past her fingertips, hem brushing her thighs—but she wore it like it was armor.

Like maybe it gave her just enough protection or comfort to keep going.

It was mine, but it looked like hers now.

Like maybe she needed it. Like maybe, somehow, I’d given her something that helped.

That thought lodged itself somewhere beneath my ribs and wouldn’t let go.

I didn’t get out. Didn’t call to her. She didn’t need a witness to how hard she was fighting to be okay. She needed space. Quiet. Normalcy. So I let her have it. Kept my hands easy on the wheel and just watched her walk away.

And maybe I shouldn’t have cared so much that she kept the hoodie.

But I did.

She turned the corner and disappeared from view, but the weight of the moment lingered.

I let it hang for a beat—then pulled myself back to the task at hand.

I hadn’t driven out here just to watch her walk to class.

As much as I wanted to stay lost in thoughts I had no business entertaining, there was a reason I’d come this early. One that couldn’t wait.

Once she was out of sight, I got out of the truck, letting the door shut softly behind me.

My boots crunched the gravel as I jogged to the apartment.

I rapped my knuckles against the door. A beat passed.

Then another. It was early yet, and Bodie didn’t have class for two more hours.

He didn’t share his sister’s early-bird habits.

I knocked again, harder this time, and finally heard slow, reluctant movement inside.

The door cracked open to reveal Bodie, looking like someone had dragged him out of bed and through a wind tunnel.

A pair of cutoff CSU sweatpants hung low on his hips.

His T-shirt was inside out, and his brown hair—usually trimmed close—was sticking up in all directions like he’d gone toe-to-toe with a pillow and lost.

He blinked at me, squinting against the morning light that made it past my shoulders to stab him straight in the eyes. “Jesus, man. It’s not even eight.”

I didn’t smile or offer up a joke. “You’re lucky I like you.”

That earned a grunt, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk. It died fast when he saw my face. “You good?”

I was so far from good, I couldn’t even begin to describe it. “Let me inside.”

He instantly stepped back. “What’s going on, man? Something happen to your mom?”

I shook my head. “No. No, she’s fine. You seen your sister yet this morning?” I knew the answer was probably no, as I’d clearly dragged him from bed.

The question snapped him the rest of the way awake. “No. Heard her leave a little while ago.” His posture sharpened, sleep draining off him like water. “Why?”

I didn’t ease into it. “She caught Barrett cheating last night at Whiskey Jack’s.”

For just a second, Bodie went still. Then he exploded. “He did what?”

His voice cracked like a whip, and he’d already halfway turned toward the hallway, muscles bunched, fists clenched. I could practically see the smoke rising off him. “Tell me he’s not still breathing.”

He disappeared briefly into his room. Drawers slammed. He came back out a second later with socks in one hand and a shoe flying across the floor from the other.

I stepped in his path and caught his shoulder. “Hey.”

He yanked away like I’d burned him. “Don’t you dare try to talk me down right now, man. He cheated on my sister. You know what she’s been dealing with this semester. You know how much she put into that relationship. She doesn’t ask for shit from anybody and?—”

“I know .” I kept my voice calm but firm, matching his volume without raising my own. “You think I didn’t want to break him in half? You think I didn’t almost do it last night?”

That made him pause. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah. I ran into her. Or she ran into me, I guess.” I shoved a hand through my hair. “She saw him, Bodie. On the dance floor. Making out with some girl like she was the one he’d been dating all this time. Didn’t even try to hide it.”

“What did Alia do?”

“Nothing. You know how she is. She wouldn’t have wanted the scene. She hates being the center of any kind of attention, and if she’d confronted him there, it would have been all over campus by this morning. So she just turned around and walked away. No scene. No tears. Just left.”

“Why didn’t you do something?”

I knew he didn’t mean it like an accusation.

Not really. We were both protectors where Alia was concerned.

It was our shared job, even if only one of us knew how far that ran.

“I’d have happily pounded him into the floor, but she asked me not to make a scene.

Said she just wanted to go home. So I walked her to make sure she got here okay. ”

Bodie stared at me, jaw tight, the fury barely leashed behind his eyes. “She tell you anything after?”

“No. And I didn’t ask. She looked wrecked, man. I figured you should hear it from me before you do something that puts you on academic probation.”

His nostrils flared. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “What do you want me to do, Ramsey? Pretend like I’m not ready to throw that motherfucker through a wall?”

“No,” I said quietly. “But we have to consider what she wants.”

His brows drew together. “You don’t seriously think she’ll stay with this asshole after this?”

“No. And I don’t actually think she’d object to him being taught a lesson.

But it needs to be done in such a way that it doesn’t blow back on her.

She’ll want to fly under the radar on all of this, give people as little to talk about as possible.

You go storming into the locker room, it becomes a team problem.

A university problem. He’s not worth that. ”

Bodie paced a tight circle around the living room, breath heaving like a bull ready to charge, and I knew it cost him not to act right now. He swung back to face me. “You can’t expect me to do nothing.”

“I don’t. Look, the bastard humiliated her. I wanted to break his jaw for it. Still do. But she didn’t want that, and I wasn’t about to do something she didn’t ask for.” I let out a breath, trying to keep my voice even.“But that doesn’t mean we let it slide.”

He stopped pacing. “What are you saying?”

“That there’s a right way to handle this, and we need to settle the details before we see him at practice this afternoon.”

We exchanged a long look, one of those silent communications that made us an unstoppable offensive line on the field. Understanding dawned on his face.

On a long breath, his shoulders relaxed, the decision made. “Okay, then.” He paused. “You want coffee?”

I thought of the thermos in the truck that I’d been sipping on for the past two hours. It was gonna take more than that to keep me going through the rest of my day. “Wouldn’t say no.”

As Bodie puttered around the little galley kitchen, adding water and grounds to the coffeemaker, I settled back against the table.

Alia deserved better than the likes of Jeff Barrett.

She deserved the fucking world, and I should’ve said something years ago.

But given her brother was my best friend, that made my less than brotherly feelings for her more than a little sticky.

He had no idea. Neither did she. And that was how it probably had to stay.

I couldn’t tell her what she meant to me. Couldn’t hold her like I wanted to. Couldn’t do a damn thing to fix the hurt in her eyes.

But this? Keeping her brother from going off half-cocked? Finding a way to put the hurt on Jeff without making a bigger mess for Alia? This I could do for her.