Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beckett
I’ve been watching you all night.
I’ll bet he was. But instead of initiating a conversation like a decent human being, he waits for her outside the restrooms and shoves her against the wall?
Puts his hands on her?
I just wanted to get to know you, my ass.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how he wanted to get to know her.
“Wait,” Daisy says. “I have to check on Callie.” I let her go and walk over to the bar. When I catch Ledger’s attention, I fill him in on what happened.
This is his bar so he needs to know what kind of customers he’s serving.
“Dark hair? Goatee?” he asks.
I nod, my hands balling into fists at my sides. What I wouldn’t give to plant one in that fucker’s face. Should’ve done it when I had the chance. “That’s the one.”
“Piece of shit. That’s Clayton. We went to school with him. He’s always been an asshole. All the Fletchers are. I’ve had a few run-ins with them over the years.” Now that he mentioned the name, it rings a bell.
I’m not surprised to hear he’s had a few run-ins with them either. Back in middle school, I was never a fighter and neither was Caiden, but Ledger was always getting into fights.
“I’ll take care of it,” Ledger assures me, leaping over the bar to go deal with it. “He won’t be allowed in my bar again.”
When he strides away, I have half a mind to follow him, but Daisy grabs my hand and starts dragging me to the door.
“I don’t want you getting into a fight,” she says. “Not with that pretty face.”
I scoff. “Pretty?”
“Yeah, you’re pretty so deal with it,” she says with a smirk. “We can go. The guy Callie’s with said he’ll make sure she gets home safe.”
“Does she trust him?” I think to ask.
“Yeah. They’ve known each other since high school.”
I escort her out the door and into the back seat of the SUV idling out front.
After the driver confirms my identity and pulls onto the road, Daisy looks over at me. “Would you mind telling me what happened back there?”
I stare at her. “Why are you asking me that? You were there.”
“Yeah, I know. But all he did was grab my arm.”
“And push you against the wall,” I grit out. “Did you want him touching you?”
“No, but?—”
“There’s no but about it.” Jesus. I can’t believe she’s even questioning this. “He grabbed you without your permission. He touched you without your permission and refused to take no for an answer. End of story.”
“I know that. But we were in a bar and he was drunk…” She shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal. Stuff like that happens all the time.”
Happens all the time. No big deal.
Her nonchalance pisses me the fuck off. “It wasn’t a big deal, huh? So what would you have done if he tried to force you into giving him something you didn’t want to give him?” I jerk my chin toward her. “What would you have done then, Daisy?”
“That’s not what happened. And if it had, I would have handled it. I know how to deal with guys like that.”
Her words are not putting me at ease. Not even a little bit. If anything, they’re pissing me off even more. “So you have a lot of experience with drunks in bars who grab you. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It doesn’t only happen in bars,” she says with a laugh as if this is one big joke to her. Unfortunately, I’m not amused. “But I can handle it. I don’t need anyone to rescue me.”
I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing. I take a few deep breaths, trying to rein in my anger and calm the fuck down.
Did I overreact? I don’t think so.
Who knows what would have happened in that dark, empty hallway if I hadn’t intervened?
I keep picturing the bullies’ faces. Those entitled assholes I went to boarding school with. It was only my first week at that school when I saw them coming out of the boathouse, bragging about what they did to the girl inside and how she was “gagging for it.”
I called them a bunch of assholes. Told them it doesn’t make them cool or tough. It makes them sexual abusers.
At thirteen, I still had a strong moral compass and the strength of my convictions. Speaking up was a suicide mission—they were bigger, older, wealthier. It was three to one and I didn’t stand a chance, but I called them out because it was the right thing to do.
The girl changed schools, traumatized. They got a slap on the wrist. I got two years of hell for my troubles.
They shoved my head in the toilet bowl and used it to mop the floor, and from then on, they used me as their human punching bag.
Maybe I’m not known for my chivalry, but I’d like to believe that there is still some small part of me that is decent and honorable enough to defend a woman who says no when a man tries to force himself on her.
“So because this kind of thing happens ‘all the time’ you think that makes it okay?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“No.” She shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know it’s not right. But there are a lot of assholes out there. And I know how to take care of myself. I don’t need anyone to?—”
“Rescue you,” I finish.
“Right. All he did was grab my arm. Guys have done a lot worse.”
Guys have done a lot worse.
So casual. So fucking cavalier.
My jaw clenches so tightly, I wouldn’t be surprised if my molars disintegrate into dust. “Yeah? Who are these guys?”
She laughs softly. “What are you going to do about it? Beat them up?” she teases.
I crack my knuckles and roll out my shoulders. “I want a list of everyone who has ever hurt you. Give me their names and I will hunt them down and make them pay for it.”
She laughs again, but I’m only half-joking. “You’re so blood-thirsty. You just live for revenge, don’t you?”
“Only when it’s justified.” I would go after every asshole who ever hurt her.
I have the money and the means now to destroy anyone who ever laid a finger on her without her permission.
Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to bring them to their knees.
“Sorry to deprive you of the sheer joy of seeking revenge, but save your energy for better things. I’ve moved on and I’m absolutely fine. The people who have wronged me hold no power over me.”
Nice words but I’m not entirely convinced.
Daisy angles her body toward me and rests her cheek on the seat, tucking her legs underneath her. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on her hair and skin, and before I can stop myself, I reach out and push a lock of hair off her cheek.
It feels intimate in the confined space of the back seat.
“I take back something I said. When I told you that if I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t ask for permission…I was wrong.”
The backs of my fingers brush her skin, and she lets out a soft sigh, eyelids drifting shut. “You should never let anyone kiss you or touch you without your consent,” I say quietly. “Not me. Not any other asshole.”
Her eyes meet mine, lips slightly parted, and even in the moonlight, I can see the tears glittering in her eyes.
Sick fuck that I am, I have an overwhelming urge to kiss her. To crash my mouth against hers and kiss her until her lips are bruised and swollen and the only word on her lips is my name.
But there’s another part of me that prevails.
I want to make it better like I used to when she was a little kid with blonde pigtails, and I was just a boy who would have done anything to make her smile.
I want to slay her dragons. Fight her battles. Mend her bruises.
But Daisy isn’t a little kid anymore and she’s not looking for a savior or a white knight.
Since I’m neither of those things, it’s probably for the best that she’s not asking for my help or expecting anything of me.
I’d only disappoint her.
A few minutes later, the Uber pulls into the driveway and I round the back of the SUV to open her door, but she’s already out of the car and striding up the front steps.
I follow her inside, and we climb the stairs in silence.
On the second-floor landing, she turns to me, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. The hallway light illuminates her smudged eyeliner and I have to shove my hands in my pockets to resist the urge to brush away the tears clinging to her lashes.
I’m not that guy. I’m more likely to make a girl cry than to brush away her tears.
I can’t remember the last time I felt the urge to comfort anyone .
Until tonight.
“Thank you,” she says, her eyes dropping to the floor. She lets out a shaky breath. “That was really nice.”
“Is that why you’re crying? Because I did something nice for you?”
Daisy shrugs one shoulder and averts her head, gnawing on her bottom lip. That poor fucking lip. “I guess I’m just not used to it.”
“Because it’s me? Because I’m normally such an asshole?”
She smiles. “Yeah. Exactly.”
But I don’t think that’s the entire truth.
Daisy has been on her own for a long time and I get the feeling that no one has ever looked out for her.
She turns left and heads down the hallway, waving over her shoulder, and I turn right and head in the opposite direction.
I purposefully chose two bedrooms that were as far apart as possible. As if the extra space between us would make the slightest bit of difference.
When I get into bed, sleep won’t come.
I keep replaying her words. Picturing the tears in her eyes. The way she kept insisting she didn’t need anyone to rescue her.
Beneath her tough exterior and endless quips, Daisy has a vulnerable side.
I want to know why she would ever believe she’s not worth fighting for.
I want to know who hurt her.
But am I really any better?