Page 33

CARSON

I storm into the kitchen, Zander hot on my heels. I’m so riled I can barely think straight. There’s this hazy blur impairing my vision, and when I wrench the freezer open, I can’t even see a fucking ice pack!

“Dude, just take a breath.” Zander reaches around me, stilling my frantic movements before gently moving me out of the way.

“Would you back off?” I shove his shoulder, and he turns with a steady look that makes me want to shrink… or crawl into a foxhole.

Fuck!

Leaning back against the counter, I rest my ass on the edge and tuck my hands under my armpits.

My shirt is soaking wet, so I pull it off, throwing it on the kitchen floor.

Grabbing a dish towel off the oven door handle, I dry my face and body.

Fuck, my chin hurts. I finger the lump where Fleischer got me and growl, dabbing my lip.

At least I’ve stopped bleeding.

“So, what happened?”

“I didn’t mean for her to get hurt, okay?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Zander pulls out a tub of ice cream. What the fuck is that doing in there? Who bought that? We’re not allowed to eat this shit.

Snatching it from his hand, I spin and yank open the utensil drawer, hoping Nylah likes ice cream as I snatch out a spoon and mutter, “It’s killing me. I made her fucking cry.”

“What happened?” Zander’s voice is so calm that it’s pissing me off.

I slap the drawer closed and turn to face him again. He’s standing there, holding an ice pack and looking like the literal calm in the middle of my fucking hurricane.

With a heavy sigh, I dip my chin and admit, “Fleischer got to me.”

Zander snorts. “That guy is such an asshole. What started it?”

“He opened his fucking mouth.” It’s the best I can do. It’s not like I can admit what Fleischer said. Zander will kill my ass for getting involved with Nylah. I can’t tell anyone.

“What’d he say?”

Of course he wants more details! Shit!

Working my jaw to the side, I scramble for a decent comeback and eventually land on “He was talking shit about Nylah. I didn’t like it.” I glare at him with a look that warns him not to ask for more.

He stares right back at me, then nods and holds out the ice pack. “I’m guessing she tried to stop you guys.”

I snatch the ice pack with a growl. “I couldn’t even hear her, man. I didn’t even see her standing there.”

He nods like he gets it. Probably because he’s seen me like that before.

My eyebrows pull together, this horrible feeling washing right through me as I brush past him and stalk back to the living room.

Sienna’s kneeling beside the couch, helping Nylah into a fresh pair of baggy sweats and a hoodie that swamps her.

“This is Zander’s, but it’s my favorite.” Sienna grins. “It’s my comfort hoodie.”

I fucking hate seeing her in Zander’s hoodie, but I can’t go admitting that and giving myself away.

I swallow down the growl in my throat as Nylah smiles at Sienna and murmurs a soft “Thank you.”

Shit. That smile. It hits me right in the chest. Those eyes. The fact that she can look that way even when she’s hurting takes me out. I want to drop to my knees and crawl across the floor. I want to fucking beg her to be mine.

But I don’t deserve her.

I fucking hurt her tonight.

My stomach writhes and twists like an ocean storm is surging through me.

“Fucking Fleischer,” I mutter, walking around Sienna as she gently lifts Nylah’s legs back onto the couch.

Nylah winces in obvious pain but doesn’t say anything.

“I want to kill that fucker,” I spit, handing her the ice cream and a spoon.

She stares at it for a second before giving me a bemused smirk and taking it from me. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“I don’t fucking know!” I flick my hand up. “Do you like ice cream?”

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?” She rips off the lid and I huff, turning back to look at Zander.

He snickers but cuts the sound short when I narrow my eyes at him.

“So… uh… what exactly happened?” Sienna crosses her arms, leaning toward Zander. His arm automatically moves around her, and he pulls her against his side while she casts a worried frown at Nylah. “Should we be taking her to the hospital or?—”

“No, I just need to rest it,” Nylah says around a mouthful of ice cream. “The fall just aggravated an old injury of mine. It’ll be fine.”

I both hate and love the way she’s downplaying this. I love that she’s this no-fuss chick. She’s tough. But I hate that I didn’t take better care of her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“You fell?” Sienna asks.

“Fleischer tackled me, and she was right behind us,” I answer for her. “I didn’t see her. I didn’t know she was there!” My voice starts to rise. “As usual, Fleischer was being a world-class dick. That little shithead’s got a mouth, and I want to wire that fucking thing closed. I should have?—”

“Shut up, already!” Nylah cuts me off. “We get it. The guy pissed you off, and I was standing too close. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Of course I didn’t fucking mean to hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you!”

“Can you stop yelling, please?” She smiles at me in mock sweetness.

I growl, irritation crawling through me like an army of ants. “I just feel so fucking guilty.”

“And yelling at me is helping with that?” Her look is so pointed it feels like an arrow between my eyeballs.

“I’m not yelling at you,” I huff. “I’m yelling at everybody else. I’m yelling at the fucking world for being an asshole.”

“Well, maybe you should yell at yourself, then… asshole.”

“Lame.” The word pops out before I can even think, and suddenly she’s fighting a grin.

It makes something in my chest pop, and all the fury that’s been fueling me starts to fizzle out. My shoulders sag as I smash my teeth together.

“Can I have that ice pack, please?” Nylah’s voice is gentle now, soft and forgiving.

Fuck, I don’t deserve it.

She puts the spoon into her mouth and holds out her hand to take it.

I crouch down beside her, carefully placing the pack over her knee and hoping it’s cold enough to reach her through the sweatpants. “Do you need any painkillers? I can go find you some Advil.” My voice has dropped to a velvet whisper.

Nylah shakes her head. “I’ve got some anti-inflammatories in my bag.” She points to the floor, and Sienna moves to retrieve them.

Zander runs and gets a glass of water, and as she’s swallowing down those pills, he unzips his hoodie and hands it to me. “You’re getting goose bumps.”

I look down at my bare torso. Shit, my nipples could cut glass. I don’t feel fucking cold, but my bubbly skin would say otherwise.

Taking his hoodie with a sigh, I throw it on with a grunt of thanks.

“You’re welcome.” He snickers, taking Sienna’s hand and leading her out of the room. “If you need to borrow my car to drop her home, the keys are in the bowl.”

“Thanks, man,” I call back to him, then turn to gaze at Nylah.

She licks her ice cream spoon, then holds it out to me. “I’m done.”

I take the ice cream back to the freezer and shove her spoon in the dishwasher, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to say to her when I get back to the living room.

Glancing down at my soaking wet jeans, I pull those off, throwing them into the laundry room with my wet T-shirt. I’ll deal with those in the morning. Darting upstairs, I throw on some sweats and grab a dry hoodie—my softest one—before heading down to the girl I want wearing my clothes.

Damn, I hope those painkillers kick in fast. The thought that she’s hurt is like a knife between my ribs. I fucking did that.

“Shit, I fucking made her cry.” I grip the railing and grit my teeth against the roar that wants to burst out of me.

The urge to bolt out the door and ride my bike through the rain is nearly overpowering.

But I can’t leave Nylah, so I force my sorry ass into the living room.

Leaning against the archway frame, I study her for a moment.

Her eyes are closed, her hand resting on her forehead.

She’s breathing very intentionally, and I’m guessing it’s some kind of tactic to manage the pain.

Fuck. I wince, shame riding through me—a scorching reminder that Fleischer might be a dick, but I really am an asshole too.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna come sit down?”

My eyes dart back to her face, and there’s that smile again, drawing me in, that teasing glint in her eyes a fucking siren song.

I shuffle to the couch, draping my hoodie over the top of her like a blanket. That’s fucking better. Lifting her legs, I take a seat, then settle them over my lap.

Resting one hand on her thigh and one on her shin, I try to make sure I’m not putting pressure where it shouldn’t be.

“This okay?” I check.

She nods and rests her head back against the cushions. Her gaze is sure and steady. She should be glaring at me, but her eyes are bright and beautiful as usual, her lips twitching like I’m her favorite form of entertainment.

I cringe and look away from her, clenching my jaw so tight it hurts.

“Hey.” She softly trails her hand down my arm. “It’s okay. My anger has subsided.”

“It’s not okay.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m so fucking sorry I made you cry.”

A soft laugh pops out of her, and I whip my head to give her an incredulous frown. I’m trying to apologize here, and she’s laughing at me?

The sound fades away, her smile turning soft. “You didn’t make me cry. You pissed me off, but you didn’t make me cry.”

I give her a skeptical frown. “You were crying. When I caught up to you, those weren’t just raindrops on your face.”

She looks out toward the window. The curtains are closed, but raindrops are steadily hitting the glass behind us.

Thankfully, the lightning and thunder have moved on.

She seemed really scared being out there.

I get it. Storms can be shit. We don’t get many at this time of year, but occasionally a freak weather system will form over Colorado.

Hopefully tonight is just a one-off thing.

“It was the rain.” Her voice is husky… croaky… and I can tell she’s fighting a big ol’ lump in her throat.

Running my fingers lightly up her shin, I pinch the fabric of the sweatpants and can feel the serious turn this conversation is about to take. But I can’t just bail, right? I owe it to her to sit here in whatever discomfort I have to.

“The rain?” I finally reply.

She nods with a sad sigh, and I want to make some kind of sarcastic comment or tell a really shitty joke just to break this tension. But I can’t think of anything. All I can do is stare at her haunted expression and brace myself.

“I was at a party. It was just before graduation, and we were celebrating the end of the school year.” She swallows. “I was running late for my curfew and pissed off that I couldn’t just stay at the party like everybody else. I wanted to crash on the floor for the night, you know?”

I nod, my throat swelling when she sniffs, her eyes glassing over.

“But I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I sped home. It was raining, and I was going too fast for the conditions. I spun out and went right off the road, rolled the car, smashed up the front.”

I picture her tumbling down an embankment, my chest hurting at the fear she must have felt in that moment.

“No one could see me from the road, so I was stuck there for hours, and the rain got really heavy and a storm came through. The thunder and lightning felt like it was right on top of me, and I was just stuck there—in agony—thinking I was gonna die.” She closes her eyes, and a few tears pop off her lashes and start rolling down her cheeks.

I quickly reach out, swiping those tears away before they cut my heart right out.

She sniffs, giving me a weak smile. “So yeah, I guess rain and storms are kind of triggering now. I’m working on it.”

I wish there was something I could say to make her feel better, but I’ve got nothing.

All I can do is brush my knuckles down her cheek and lightly pinch her chin. “I didn’t mean to scare you tonight.”

She shakes her head, silently forgiving me. I don’t fucking deserve it, and it just shows that she’s the better person. I pull my hand away, but she snatches it back, threading our fingers together and rubbing her thumb across the back of my hand.

I stare at our contrasting skin tones, entranced by the way our fingers fit so easily together. How good they look… and the feel of her thumb lightly caressing my skin.

That feeling in my chest intensifies, my throat swelling even tighter when I glance at her face. She’s staring at me, a quiet smile in her eyes, and I have no fucking idea what compels me to do it, but I whisper…

“You scare me, too, you know?”

Her head pops off the cushion. “Me?”

“Well.” I tip my head to the side, my lips twitching, my voice coming out all croaky. “How much I like you scares me.”