Chapter Nine – Kayla #2
I drop the shard next to me and go to pull out the next.
I can’t say how long it takes me to free my legs of all shards, but it feels like an eternity.
I’m sweating by the time it’s done, not to mention the blood oozing from the wounds—especially the first one.
Dark red wets my pants around the wounds, and I mentally curse at myself.
Fuck. If only I wasn’t so clumsy and weak. This whole thing could have been avoided. Now not only is there a mess for me to clean up, but sewing up these pants might not be enough to save them.
I lean my head back on the cabinet and bring my hands to my face. Silly as it is, stupid as it might make me, I feel like I want to cry. I feel so useless most of the time. This is more proof that’s what I am, because it sure as shit isn’t proof of the opposite.
I don’t know how long it is, but eventually I hear footsteps, and I mentally curse at myself for not moving faster. I lower my hands away from my face and turn my head to watch as someone comes into view, rounding the corner of the island to see me on the floor and the glass all around me.
Oh, and the blood that has now dripped to the tile below.
Great. Even more to clean up.
Based on the dress pants, I can tell it’s Bradford and not Hayden coming inside to use the restroom. He stands a good ten feet away, surveying the chaos before him for a few seconds before saying, “What happened?”
I don’t look at him when I respond, “I dropped a glass, then I fell.” It sounds just as lame as it is. There isn’t a way to sugarcoat this. So much for getting everything cleaned up before anyone saw.
“You’re bleeding,” he states, as if he’s commenting on the weather.
“Yeah, I fell on the glass.” Not my proudest moment. Then again, if you were to ask me about any proud moments in my life, I can’t say I have a list ready. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I’ll clean everything up.”
“Can you stand?”
I nod, staring hard at the cabinet across from the one I currently lean on.
Bradford says, “Show me.”
That gets me to look at him, or rather, to meet his expectant stare.
His blond brows are drawn together in what must be concern, his mouth a thin line on his face.
He does not appear upset or angry at me; rather, he seems more intent on me and my well-being than on the mess I made.
That said, he does not make any moves to help me.
Not that I’d want him to, but it might be nice.
I work on getting up. You know, on showing him what he apparently wants to see.
At least, I think I do. I think I move to get up, but in reality…
in reality, I guess, I don’t really move at all.
My body feels like stone. I must’ve used my last bit of energy to pull those shards out of my legs.
I am now out. Skipping lunch royally screwed me over today, apparently.
A few seconds pass before he says, “I’m waiting.”
“I’m trying,” I croak out, my throat dry. “I’m just… it’s hard.”
A sound escapes his chest, a mixture between a hum and a growl, as if he’s wordlessly telling me he knew it. “I’ll call Hayden in here to help you stand and get you cleaned up.” He pulls out his phone and searches for Hayden’s info.
“No,” I try to say, though there isn’t much heart behind the denial. “I got it. I don’t need help.”
But he’s not listening to me. He might be watching me, but he’s not listening.
Bradford holds his phone up to the side of his face, never breaking eye contact with me as he calls the man outside.
Hayden must answer the phone, because he says, “Come into the kitchen. There’s a situation that requires you.
” He doesn’t say anymore as he ends the call and slides his phone back into his pocket.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to do any of this. Please don’t fire me.” I sound absolutely pathetic, but that’s about right, because I totally am pathetic. Pathetic in every way.
Bradford steps closer to me, careful to avoid the glass on the ground. He stops when he’s two feet away, and he slowly kneels. I can tell he’s not used to kneeling; he’s very stiff as he does it. “Why would I fire you for accidentally dropping a glass?”
“I didn’t just drop a glass. I got blood on your floor—”
“Okay, then why would I fire you for hurting yourself?” The way he asks the question makes it sound like I’m the strange one for assuming I’m going to get in trouble for this.
He doesn’t sound upset in the slightest, and I don’t know how that makes me feel.
Those black eyes of his stare holes through me even though he radiates an eerie calmness laced with the slightest hints of concern.
I manage to shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know who you’re used to dealing with, but accidents do happen.
Sometimes there’s nothing we can do about them.
I’m not going to fire you, Kayla.” The way he says my name makes something in my chest flutter, but I don’t have any time to linger on that sensation, because his gaze drops to my legs. Or, rather, the wounds on them.
I am not expecting his next question: “Do you happen to have anything else to wear?”
“Today? No.” I don’t come with my entire closet in my small bag. “I just need some peroxide, and a needle and thread.” And some bandages to stop me from bleeding on the pants even more. The pants will look ratty as hell, but they can mostly be saved.
“No,” he says with a simple shake of his head. “I’ll order you some new clothes. Have them delivered before you go.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t…” What I’m going to say is that I don’t have the money to pay him back for something like that, but I realize how embarrassing that is to admit to your boss, so the statement dies before it has the chance to surface.
Bradford’s jaw tightens. “I’m going to order them for you. Don’t worry about it.”
Before I can say anything else, the sound of a door opening and closing a good ways away fills the air, and Bradford snaps to his feet, backing away from me as he addresses Hayden: “I found her on the floor. She’ll need to be taken to the bathroom and the wounds on her legs cleaned.”
Hayden appears around the side of the island, spotting me instantly, along with the mess I made.
“Oh, Kayla,” he breathes out my name as he comes for me.
He does not hesitate to step on the glass to get to me—he still wears his outside boots, so he doesn’t have to worry about any of the shards impaling his feet.
The glass merely crunches beneath his boots.
I want to tell him I’m fine, that I don’t need his help, but based on the look Bradford is giving me around him, he won’t let me argue with either of them, so I keep it to myself as Hayden scoops me up into his arms and stands.
“This way,” Bradford says, leading the way.
Hayden divides his time between staring at Bradford ahead of us and glancing down at me. I pretend to ignore those bright blue eyes. Those pretty eyes of his were what first got me going this morning. Turns out, getting extra sleep is a bad thing when it comes to me. Who knew?
Eventually we wind up in a bathroom, where Hayden sets me on the counter near the sink while Bradford fetches a first aid kit.
While he’s gone, Hayden leans closer to me and asks, “Did he really find you on the floor? You can tell me what happened.” His voice is low, and based on his line of questioning, I’d say he genuinely believes Bradford is the reason I’m hurt.
But he’s wrong.
Now that I’m not cradled against his chest like a baby, I can start to think straight. You’d be surprised at how those muscles of his discombobulate you when you aren’t paying attention. I say, “I really did fall. I skipped lunch today, and I guess it made me weaker than I thought.”
He shakes his head. He has a smudge of dirt on his face, just beneath his right eye, and his brown hair is caked in sweat. He has a bit of a tan going, even though it’s only been a few days. “Why would you skip lunch? If anything, you need to eat double lunches.”
The look I give him is one of incredulousness. Double lunches? I don’t think that’s a thing.
Hayden sighs. “You’re skin and bones. It can’t be good, skipping meals when you’re already so skinny. I can run out and get you something if you’re not in the mood for what you brought—”
“No,” I say quickly. “That’s not—” I can’t explain why that’s not going to work for me, so I shut my mouth and look away.
He lightly touches my leg, the one that only has a single wound halfway down between my knee and my foot. It’s such a gentle touch, I hardly feel it. “That’s not what? Talk to me. Tell me what it is, then. Maybe I can help you.”
That gets me to look at him, and the moment I do, I’m almost swallowed by the crispness of his azure stare. Who the heck is he to say he can help me? He might be big for a beta, but in the grand scheme of things, what could he really do for me?
Sure, he can drive me to and from work. Sure, he could even get me food. But none of that solves the problem that is my life. The problem that’s me.
I’m just an omega, trying to survive in a world that’s not made for us.
And, even if he could help me, why would he want to?
He doesn’t know me. We’re strangers to each other.
He might have proved so far he’s willing to go out of his way for me, but I still don’t understand the reasoning behind it.
What’s he hoping to gain? What does he want to get out of me? I have nothing to give him.
I can’t say anything, so I once again turn my face away from him, breaking the eye contact that is simply too strong for me to handle, but the moment I do, the hand that was lightly touching my leg moves to my face.
His fingers graze my jawline, causing me to suck in a hard breath before he turns my head his way.