Page 44

A low hiss echoes in the otherwise silent room, and I bite down my tongue to prevent another one from coming. I’m holding my hand extended, and it trembles under the gauze pad filled with disinfectant.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of a happy memory. Nothing comes to mind; it’s completely blank, and I can focus on the ache. The blood around the wound is dry, and it takes him a while to clean it up.

However, I’m ready to bet all of my life savings, everything that I have and own, that he’s pushing the cotton pad deeper into my palm, under the guise of doing a thorough cleanse. He doesn’t say much. In fact, he hasn’t spoken since I arrived.

After Kortlek ended, right around the time Cove and I managed to fix ourselves up, which was half a minute before Mom busted through the door, Dad stayed behind, waiting for the cleanup crew to arrive. Then, as expected, he lit the entire thing on fire and called it a day.

Mom brought me to their house and immediately started scolding me for allowing my palm to be sliced through. She was gone for five minutes maximum, going to grab her first-aid kit to stitch me up, when he appeared.

And now, he’s the one tending to my wounds.

Cove is behind him, leaning against the wall. He didn’t want to leave us alone, not even for a second. He’s still in the Kortlek clothes, bloody, disheveled, and handsome as hell. He’s not saying much, just observing from across the room.

My eyes return to Arlo.

His knee is bent, the box of first-aid kit right next to him. He doesn’t look at me or speak to me directly, just uses the tweezers to rub more of the disinfectant on my wound. At this point, I think he’s already poured half of the bottle just to spite me.

I know I should apologize.

My relationship with Arlo is something I never want to lose. I’ve been regretting the words that hurt him; I’ve been regretting starting that entire conversation. It weighs heavily on my heart, and I don’t know if he’ll forgive me for the outburst.

It would’ve been a different story if I had said something about him, but I dragged Blair into an argument she had nothing to do with, and it wasn’t fair of me. She didn’t deserve it, and neither did Arlo.

I take a deep breath.

“Arlo.’’

He doesn’t respond. He continues to clean my palm, and once he’s done, he puts the tweezers and dirty gauze pads aside and grabs a needle and some thread. My heart starts beating in my chest at a quicker pace, but I don’t get to protest before he starts stitching me up.

I whine, pain shooting through my palm. The adrenaline wore off a while ago, and the wound fucking hurts. It’s my first time being cut so deeply, especially on my hand, and I’m definitely not catching a knife with my hands, ever again.

“Arlo.’’

I call out again, but he ignores me. He stitched me up perfectly, which isn’t surprising considering he acted as a doctor for a few months in the prison where Blair was sentenced. He perfected it, and he’s able to patch us all nicely without involving hospitals or real doctors.

“Arlo.’’

I try for the third time. His eye twitches in annoyance, but he doesn’t say a word. He wraps my palm with some bandages, securing it tightly so it doesn’t move. He inspects my palm a few more times before nodding to himself.

“Arlo.’’

I use the healthy hand and jab my finger in his cheek. I’ve forgotten how soft and squeezable his cheeks are. He grunts in response, and my lips twitch. I grip his right cheek between my thumb and index finger and give it a good squeeze.

His eyes immediately snap to mine, and he swats my hand away.

“What the fuck was that?” He rubs his cheek, the pale skin already starting to redden. “Are you seven years old?”

A wide grin of pure satisfaction appears on my face, and he groans. He lost the silence game, and now he is obligated to speak to me, whether he likes it or not, because I won’t stop pestering him until the issue between us is resolved, and he knows it.

I take a deep breath, getting more serious.

“I’m sorry, Arlo.’’

He gets off the floor, standing tall in front of me with a blank expression, his arms folded in front of his chest. The fact that he’s letting me speak and isn’t immediately shutting me down is a good sign. He’s at least willing to listen to me.

“Using Blair was a low blow and uncalled for. I’m sorry for acting like a brat.’’

“And?” He urges, voice flat.

“And I’m sorry for not listening to you and saying those awful things. You were just looking out for me, and I acted immaturely. I apologize for trying to push you out.’’

“And?”

I blink. “And what? That’s all I’ve got.’’

My eyes dart behind him, where Cove is still leaning against the wall. His face is buried in his hands, and his entire body is shaking in silent laughter. He’s doing his best not to interrupt Arlo and me, though he can’t seem to contain his laughter.

“And… you still haven’t begged for forgiveness,’’ Arlo says dryly.

My brows shoot up to my hairline. “Pardon?”

He nods. “Yes. I expect you to get on your knees and beg for your big brother’s forgiveness. You put your whole chest into saying all that shit; can’t you do the same to earn my forgiveness?”

Humiliation hits my chest, my cheeks getting flushed. Embarrassingly, I stare at him, trying to see if he’s joking or not. Evidently, he’s serious. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t change his stoic expression, and even his eyes are blank.

The motherfucker is really expecting me to get on my knees and beg.

“I... Well, let’s be reasonable here.’’

With a panicked expression, I look at Cove, pleading with my eyes for help. He’s struggling not to burst out into a fit of laughter, shrugging at my prediction. He won’t get involved, and I make a mental note to get back at him for this later.

“Reasonable? I’m being reasonable.’’

With a shaky breath, I get off the chair, straightening my back. I swallow down my pride, and close my eyes. I’m already feeling sick for having to do this, mentally bracing myself to never live this one down.

Just as I’m about to get on my knees, Arlo whacks the back of my head harshly.

With a yelp, I open my eyes, my hand going back to rub the sore spot.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Did I or did I not fucking tell you never to bow for anyone? Even me! This just goes to show that you don’t fucking listen!”

I scowl at him, punching his stomach. He winces, not expecting the blow. Then, he scowls back and gets in position. For a moment, I think that we’re about to have one of our usual fighting matches, like we used to do before this entire mess started.

Instead, he surprises me by pulling me into a tight hug.

One of his hands holds my head pressed against his chest, and he takes a deep breath. My eyes close, arms wrapping around his torso on instinct. The familiarity of his scent makes me feel better, and I don’t dare to break the sweet moment.

“I forgive you,’’ he mumbles, pressing a kiss on the top of my head. “But if you do it again, I will never speak to you again. Do you understand me?”

I nod, stepping back.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I mean it.’’

He smiles. “I know.’’

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out, picking up the call. He excuses himself, leaving the room and closing the door behind me. My eyes are glued to the spot where he stood a moment earlier, a soft smile playing on my lips.

Then, I shift my attention to Cove, who pushes himself off the wall and walks toward me, pulling me into a hug of his own.

We’re still dirty, bloody with stains all over our clothes.

With his arms wrapped around me, he picks me up in bridal style and walks out of the room. The embrace makes me feel safe, and now with Wyatt gone, I can start living for myself.

For Cove.

For our future.

Because that man is the only thing I need in my life. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, my strongest vice, my maddest obsession, and my biggest weakness. And he’s all mine.

Until death do us part.