Page 127 of Pretty Mess

“Mac,” I croak. I swallow, shocked by how hoarse my voice is.

“Wes,” he breathes. “Sweetheart. Are you alright?”

Mac’s hands are shaking, his knuckles grazed, and instinctively, I move into him, feeling his arms band instantly tight around me. The grip might be too much in my current state, but in this moment, it’s perfect. It seems to shut out the world and encase me in silence. His heart beats fast against my cheek, and I feel his hands on my skin through the ripped shirt. They’re impossibly gentle.

I look past him to see Fox hauling Ian to his feet. It isn’t gentle and he slams him against the wall. Ian looks at me, a sneer on his bloodied face, and I flinch back into Mac’s arms. I’m sure I’m behaving like a baby at the moment, but I don’t care.

Mac stiffens. “Don’t look at him,” he snarls at Ian. “You don’t evenseehim.”

“Mr Harris is coming with me,” Fox says in an ice-cold voice. “We’re going to have a little chat.” He nods at Julian. “Go and get the doctor,cara.”

Cara?

Julian looks as discomposed as I’ve ever seen him, his shirt dishevelled and his hair wild, but he nods at Fox and heads out of the room.

I bury my face in Mac’s chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers over and over. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

My hold on him tightens when there’s sudden movement from my right. I relax a little as I see Brandon. He’s odd, but not about to attack me, as far as I can tell.

Mac’s body goes still. “Brandon?” he says. “What are you doing here?” His arms pull me closer.

“I wanted to see if Wes was okay,” Brandon says softly.

A few seconds of silence pass, and I feel tension thrum through Mac’s chest. He exhales deeply and I wonder what he’s thinking as he stands looking at the beautiful man who used to be his lover. If I didn’t literally feel beaten and exhausted, I’d probably be devastated that I’m witnessing this odd moment of silent communication between them. But right now, there’s only the pain and burn of my external bruises and my mind yearning to make it all go away.

Finally, Mac says, “Well, thank you.”

It’s an obvious dismissal, and through bleary eyes I see Brandon nod. He gives me a final glance and then turns to leave the room.

Mac steps back from me slightly, just enough so he can look down into my face. He cups my cheek so gently it’s like a butterfly alighting on my skin. “Can I see?” he says hoarsely.

I shake my head, pressing into his chest again.

With a deep sigh, he kisses my hair. “Just for a little while longer,” he says almost as if to himself.

I startle nervously as someone steps into the room, but he shushes me, stroking my hair back. “It’s just the doctor. Can you let him look at you? Please, Wes.”

I hear both fear and urgency in his voice, so I nod and pull back.

Mac’s face is leached of colour, his eyes turbulent, but his smile is so gentle. “Good boy.”

He strides over to speak to the doctor, and they have a muttered conversation that I can’t hear. It doesn’t bother me, and I keep my eyes on Mac’s broad shoulders and solid presence. It’s the only thing stopping me from sliding away.

The doctor approaches me. He’s middle-aged with thinning brown hair but kind eyes. “Let’s have a look at you, Wes.” He glances at Mac. “Get a chair so I can sit him down.”

“Alright.” Mac gives my hand a lingering squeeze before leaving, as if he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight.

He’s back quickly, and I slide into the chair gratefully. My legs are trembling, and I shiver suddenly. “I’m cold,” I whisper.

The next second, I’m enveloped in fabric that smells of Mac, and I realise he’s given me his jacket. He tucks it around me as tenderly as a mother with a child, and I snuggle gratefully into the warmth.

“Okay, let’s see you,” the doctor says.

He takes me through a series of movements, shining a light into my eyes and asking low-voiced questions, but all my attention is on Mac, and I’m so grateful that his is on me. He never loses my hand, and it’s like a lifeline in the dark. He hovers nearby, getting in the doctor’s way, but the doctor lets him be and works around him, treating my cuts and scratches.

Finally, he sits back. “He’s okay as far as I can see. No signs of concussion. He’s banged up, and he’s going to hurt for a few days.”

“Should we take him to hospital?” Mac asks.