Chapter 14 #4
I raise my eyebrows at him, and wince when my bruised skin protests. He examines my face for a moment and then leans forward and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. It’s so soft it’s barely there, but when he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed.
I want to thank him, but I’m not sure exactly what I’d thank him for. So much has happened. And I’m sure any thanks for his tenderness, for his kindness, would be unwelcome. So I don’t say anything.
He leans against the counter. “So, that is your brother?”
“How did you like your introduction to my family?”
“I’d give it a minus ten as a sensory experience.”
I try not to smile. “I’m sorry you had to walk into that.” I look imploringly at him, suddenly aware of how many rules have been broken today. “I want you to know that I can do better.”
He blinks. “What?”
“My life won’t intrude again and?—”
“Wes, shut up.”
I snap my mouth closed, and his lip twitches. “Wow! That actually worked. What a red-letter day it is for me.” He rifles in the bathroom cabinet and comes up with a tube of antiseptic. “You have a small cut on your forehead.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, do I?”
“Yes, I’m not sure it warrants the level of excitement in your voice, but I’m going to put some cream on it.”
I nod, sitting obediently as he dabs at my face. Satisfied, he steps back. “I’m going to get you some ice. Stay there.”
I nod, swinging my legs and staying on the counter. He’s back in seconds with a towel full of ice. “This might sting,” he warns me, and I hiss as he presses it to my face. “You have a bruise coming up on your cheek. This will take the swelling down.”
“I hope so. Isn’t it the party at the weekend?”
He stops patting me. “Pardon?”
“The anniversary party,” I prompt him. “At the club. You wanted to take me, didn’t you?” The silence lasts a little too long and I frown. “Mac?” I finally say.
“I’d forgotten all about it,” he finally says. He sounds astonished.
“That’s odd for you. You’re always banging on about what a good memory you have.”
One eyebrow rises. “I’m pretty sure I don’t bang on about anything.”
“Only my arse.” I nudge him as he leans closer to look at my eye. “Get it?”
“Believe me, an elephant with a cattle prod couldn’t have conveyed your message better.”
“So, will the bruise have gone down for the party?” He’s silent, and I stare at him. “Hello. Earth to Mac. Don’t you want to go?” This time, the hesitation is long, and a horrible thought occurs. “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
“You couldn’t do that.”
I wonder what that means—that he’s proud of me? Or has so few feelings that I can’t hurt them? I sigh. Probably the latter, I think morosely.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t go,” he says in an uncertain voice. “I’ve been having second thoughts about taking you there.”
Shit. I can’t have him changing things for me. I’ll become a complication to him, and he’ll end our arrangement.
“But I want to go. I love a party.” I make myself smile at him. “It’ll be fun,” I say in a cheerful tone.
“Maybe.” He hesitates. His face is troubled, but I see the moment he gives in. “Okay. If you really want to go.”
“I really do,” I say firmly.
He bends closer, pressing the ice against another spot. This close, I can see the deeper blue flecks in his irises. He looks up, catching my gaze. “Is there trouble with your brother?”
“Well, you might say that…” I pause, wondering how much to tell him. Someone half as savvy as Mac would figure out that something’s gone terribly wrong with Tyler. I do owe Mac an explanation for the scene he literally got shoved into.
“Tell me,” he insists.
The firm gentleness in his voice feels like the permission I need.
And when I open my mouth, the whole sorry story comes tumbling out, and it’s almost a relief to share it.
As I speak, he steps back, leaning against the wall, his eyes on me, but one hand stays on my leg, and I’m grateful for the contact.
When I’ve finished, his eyes are dark and turbulent.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What for?”
“For everything. I can’t bear that you’ve been going through this alone.”
I know it isn’t easy for him to express emotion, so I’m unbearably touched by that. “It’s fine,” I say lightly. “I’m still standing.”
“I have a feeling that’s your family’s motto.”
“Ours and Elton John’s.” I gasp as he steps closer and pulls me into a hug.
His grip is hard and somehow perfect, and before I can stop myself, I wrap around him like a monkey, laying my head on his shoulders and squeezing him back.
“I don’t want you to worry.”
I’m about to tell him that’s easier said than done, but his next words stop me. “I promise you,” he whispers fiercely. “I swear that it will be okay.”
He pulls away slightly, his gaze finding mine. His eyes are full of so much feeling for a moment, and then he blinks, and it’s gone. “Do you believe me? Can you trust me on this?”
“I do.” The words ring with sincerity because they’re the unvarnished truth.
I somehow trust him more than anyone. He doesn’t lie or varnish the truth. It eases a tightly knotted worry that’s been living inside me for far too long. I could love him for that alone, but he means so much more beyond that. It’s a shame he’ll never know it.