Page 69 of Oathbreaker

He turns and starts for the hall. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

“I can?—”

His eyes hit mine, hold.

“Briar, I may not be the man who gets to show you how precious you are. But I’m the man who’s driving you home.”

As usual, instead of West making things hard, he even makes breaking up easy.

The drive is quiet, but he turns on a playlist to fill the quiet, to make it so we aren’t sitting in painfully awkward silence.

And then he walks me up to the front door, touches his knuckles to my cheek, and whispers, “Be well.”

Be. Well.

The only saving grace is that Colt doesn’t open the door tonight.

But he’s right inside the hall when I unlock and push through the entrance.

And suddenly, it all hits me.

And I’m hurt and scared and freaked out and?—

“Go away,” I mutter.

He lifts his hands. “I’m just getting a beer.”

But he doesn’t go get said beer.

Or go away.

Instead, he steps closer, face clouding. “What the fuck happened, Briar?”

“Nothing.” I turn for the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”

He snags my arm, drawing me to a halt, eyes molten, anger in his words. “Did he hurt you?”

Protective Mode activated.

And I just don’t have the patience—or maybe the strength—to handle it.

“No,” I snap. “Now go away.”

He doesn’t go away, of course he doesn’t.

In fact, he draws me closer.

And it feels good.

Guilt ripples through me. I am such a fucking mess.

“I’m going to kill him,” Colt growls.

I jerk my arm free, shove at his chest. “West didn’t hurt me. If anything, I was the one to hurt him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s none of your business.”