Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(77)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I flopped down onto the lid of the toilet, sagged down as I rested my elbows on my thighs.

Christopher ducked under the sink and grabbed a couple washcloths. Turning on the water, he wet them and wrung them out. “Douche bag has had it coming for a long time.”

He tossed one to me. Unseeing, I caught it, balled it up and pressed it to my bottom lip. “Yeah, he did.”

I doubted Aly was going to see it that way.

Gritting his teeth, Christopher dabbed the cloth to the cut on the side of his head, studying himself in the mirror.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, man, it was nothing. Believe me, both of them are hurting way worse than we are.”

I turned to stare at my feet. “Thanks for having my back.”

He laughed, the sound all kinds of inappropriate and brimming with the same kind of satisfaction I felt at finally beating Dickhead’s ass. “All too happy to. Besides, you saved my ass major tonight. If it hadn’t been for your temper, I’d probably be stealing that sweet little girl back to my apartment right about now. Now that was not going to end well.”

He tossed the cloth into the sink. “I’m going to go check on things out there.” He stretched out a placating hand. “Just stay in here for a while. Cool the f**k down before you go out looking for Aly.”

He cocked his head, his eyes calling out the f**king moronic mistake I’d made by deleting those messages. “You probably need to give my sister some time to calm down, too.”

“Shit . . . I didn’t mean for her to get hurt, Christopher,” I whispered over the pain that flared when I thought about her on the ground.

“Was it you who hurt her, Jared?” he asked, his voice twisting with contention. “Or did I? Or that ass**le who showed up where he wasn’t welcome? Or how about his ass**le friend who decided to jump in and make it an all-out brawl?” He raked an uneasy hand through his hair, looked at the wall. “And God, my sister doesn’t know when to sit things out. Always trying to break things up.”

I frowned. If it was anyone’s fault, it sure as hell was not Aly’s.

Christopher pegged me with his stare. “Tonight was f**ked-up, but this isn’t all on your shoulders, so don’t go getting all emo on me, ass**le.”

I scoffed and he laughed.

Christopher curled and uncurled his fist slowly. He flinched a little, obviously in pain. The skin on his knuckles was all shredded, flaming red.

“Just . . . lie low,” Christopher said seriously—a warning. “Let me go check on her and make sure the house is cleared out.”

Subdued voices came and went as the front door opened and closed, all of Megan and Aly’s friends flocking from what was supposed to be a good time for Megan. I climbed to my feet, paced some more, staring at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were too wide. Unfocused. Blood had begun to dry on the tiny cut at the corner of my bottom lip, and my eye was beginning to swell.

Damn it. I rubbed my palm over my mouth, trying to settle my rioting nerves.

I just needed to know she was really okay.

Bitter laughter climbed up my throat. Okay. What the f**k was okay? This bullshit I always got myself into?

That was most assuredly not f**king okay.

I forced myself to sit and give her the space she asked me for.

About ten minutes later, two knocks sounded at the door. Christopher poked his head in. He looked me up and down, judging my mood, before he edged inside. His voice was muted in a fierce whisper. “Aly’s fine . . . the burn wasn’t that bad. She’s pretty shook up, though. She said she really just wants to be alone, and Megan’s had way too much to drink for us to cut her loose, so I’m going to give her a ride home, then I’ll stop back by to check in.”

He gestured to the door. “Think you’d better give Aly some time to process this all. I can’t tell if she’s more pissed off about the texts or the fight.” His expression lightened. “You did what you thought was right tonight, Jared. Don’t go beating yourself up about it.” A smile cracked his face. Humor glinted in his eyes. “Besides, it looks like Gabe did plenty of that for one night.”

I stared up at him from where I sat on the lid of the toilet. Always such a punk. I forced a smile before I dropped my face in my hands. “Go on, Christopher. Take Megan home. We’ll be okay.”

Fucking okay.

Never was gonna be.

“Yeah, man, just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll be back by a while later.”

I nodded understanding, listened to him retreat. The soft sound of Christopher’s and Megan’s voices filtered into the bathroom before I heard the final click of the front door behind them.

With a heavy sigh, I stood, my hands fisted at my side as I pushed out into the hallway.

It was dark. Quiet. Too quiet.

My feet shuffled forward.

Embers glowed from the fire that had been built in the fireplace.

That f**king fireplace.

Bitterness crushed the joy of it within me.

Drawn, I inched toward it. Unsteadily, I pressed my hands up against the mantel, used it as support as I dropped my head and tried to catch my breath. Just for once, I wished I could be a different person.

But nothing was ever going to change. Knew it now.

I felt her searing presence behind me. Like shock waves.

I lifted my head. Regret flooded from me as I looked over at her, my arms still bracketed to the mantel.

At the edge of the room, she stood. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, hugging herself. A bandage was wrapped around her wrist, blocking out another piece of her skin that I had marred.

Another f**king sin.

I shuddered, my voice scratchy as I murmured over the pain, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but tears slipped free.

I pushed away from the mantel, and turned to face her. Anxiety crawled beneath my skin, hate and fear and this sense of fading hope. Like the bleakest blackness was taking hold as I looked at the girl I’d only ever wanted to protect but just kept hurting.

“Aly, I’m sorry . . .” With the confession, my face dropped toward the floor. “It was stupid, erasing those messages.” I lifted my chin, imploring, “But I can’t lose you. I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you.”

Green eyes narrowed in pained disbelief, and she shook her head. “Do you really think there was any chance of that? Of me letting another man touch me? That Gabe texting me would have changed one single thing between us?”

She fisted a hand out in front of her, fighting through all the disappointment she felt for me.