Chapter 24 Spencer
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SPENCER
Salt water burns the cut in my lip, taking away from the sting in my eyes and fire in my lungs as Tate’s psychotic ex-boyfriend holds me underwater.
By some sort of miracle, a strong wave knocks into us, finally releasing me from his hold. I break the surface and gasp for air.
“You tried to kill my best friend! You fucking psycho!” a familiar voice shouts, and I realize it wasn't a rogue wave that saved me, it was Jake.
“He attacked me first!” Caleb cries self-defense while Jake has him in a chokehold.
Ignoring the pain and dizziness, I focus on getting to shore and to Tate. Stumbling through the shallow water, I walk up to the man holding my princess captive. “Let him go,” I demand, and he grins cruelly.
“You started all of this,” he sneers. “Caleb was trying to clear the air between them.”
“Fuck both of you!” Tate shouts. “The air between us will never be clear. It’s rancid like your fucking breath!”
He squeezes his arms hard, making Tate squeak out a pained breath.
“Pick on someone your own size,” I taunt, desperately wanting him to let Tate go. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
“Oh. You think you can take me?” he laughs, flinging Tate off to the side.
I charge, ramming my shoulder into his soft stomach and tackling the big fucker to the ground. My knuckles graze his cheekbone before he blocks the next punch and throws me off.
“Marco!” Caleb shouts from where Jake still has him in a headlock.
We scramble to our feet, and Marco immediately starts circling me, so I crouch defensively, ready to fight anyone on this fucking beach for Tate.
I don’t take my eyes off Marco, but I hear Caleb and Jake fighting in the water, and I see Tate in my peripheral, holding his knees to his chest protectively.
“What the fuck do you guys want?” I ask while we do this weird dance.
“I already told you, Caleb was just trying to clear the air with his ex, and you two idiots turned it into a fight. You started this, but I guarantee you, we’ll finish it.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh dryly, completely unamused. “Is that what you think?” I scoff. “Your boyfriend put his hands on Tate, and I removed them. That’s all. You don’t stalk someone on a dark beach at night. That’s not normal, so don’t even try to flip this.”
“Hey!” someone shouts farther down the beach, interrupting things before this fight gets any worse.
“Arlo!” Tate calls from the ground, and I glance to the side. The bartender who told me where Tate went is running down the beach toward us. Distracted, I take a sucker punch to the temple, making me stumble and nearly go down.
“Enough, everyone! Enough!” he shouts. “Before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”
Jake and Caleb stop wrestling in the ocean, and Marco holds his hands up, stepping away from me.
“Call your rides if you’ve been drinking. This little fight club is over.”
“Come on, baby,” Caleb says, looping his arm through Marco’s. “Told you my ex was a slutty little troublemaker.” He kicks a mound of sand at Tate, who’s still sitting on the ground.
I lunge for him, but Jake grabs my elbow, holding me back. “Not worth it, bro,” he murmurs in my ear. “It’s over.”
“Go!” Arlo shouts at Caleb and Marco, pointing to the closest boardwalk exit. “Do not come back to my bar this season. I don’t want to see either of your faces until next year.”
Caleb huffs. “Whatever. Don’t care. I don’t even live here, and he’s moving away.”
“Babe, easy,” Marco says, like he actually cares. “Let’s just go.”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “I’m over this anyway. Bunch of fucking losers.” They finally head toward the boardwalk and leave.
I rush to Tate, wrapping him in my arms. “Princess. Are you okay? Fuck. Where does it hurt, baby? Let me see.”
“Your lip,” he murmurs with a quivering chin, reaching out and ghosting a finger over my split lip. “And your eyebrow.” His invisible touch moves up to my brow before smoothing my wet hair back off my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Spence. So fucking sorry.”
“Hey. It’s not your fault. You hear me? It’s not your fault,” I repeat, and his eyes start to water. I carefully wrap him in my arms, letting him cry into my chest for a second. I glance up and make eye contact with the bartender as he waits for us.
“Think you can walk back?” I murmur, and Tate nods, sniffling. He rubs his sore arm, and I clench my teeth on instinct, pain radiating through my jaw.
Caleb. That fucker. How dare he put his hands on Tate? He had no right. It enrages me to imagine how awful he treated Tate when he was only eighteen, and all the resounding trauma it’s caused in his life.
I wrap my arm around his shoulder and let him lean into me as we walk back to the bar with Arlo and Jake leading the way.
When we finally make it back to the bonfire, Daija and Kaylee are there waiting for us.
“Oh my God!” Kaylee gasps when she spots us, covering her mouth in shock.
“What happened? Are you guys okay?” Daija cries, rushing over to check on all of us.
“Caleb and his boyfriend happened,” Tate scoffs, still tucked into my side for support.
Daija gasps. “Oh my word. You guys fought? Like all of you? With fists and stuff?”
“It was practically a brawl,” Arlo confirms.
I ignore everyone, leaning down to whisper in Tate’s ear. “Baby, can we talk?”
“Can it wait, Spence?” His big blue eyes stare up at me in pure exhaustion. Our adrenaline is crashing, and he’s right, now isn’t the time.
“Of course. Here, rest for a second.” I motion toward the wooden beach chair. “I’ll get you some water.”
“I can’t sit down on that right now. My ass hurts too much,” he blurts out.
The girls frown, glancing at each other with concern, then at me.
“I just want to go home,” he adds quietly.
My heart sinks, and my body aches. My skin feels tight with dried blood, and I desperately need a fucking shower. So, I don’t blame him one bit. I want to go home too. I just wish we were going home together.
“I got you, boo. Let’s go,” Daija says softly.
Tate peers up at me, a deep vulnerability sparkling in his eyes. “I was actually hoping you would take me home?”
“Of course,” I breathe out, relieved that I can be the one to take care of him and make sure he’s okay.
“Will you still drive my car home?” Tate asks Daija, digging his key out of his pocket.
“Yeah, babe. Of course. Are you sure you don’t need anything from me?” Daija’s worried eyes roam over him, lingering on the arm he keeps holding to his chest.
“I’ll take good care of him,” I insist. “Don’t worry.”
“Come on, Daij, I’ll walk you to Tate’s car. See you later,” Jake says, squeezing my shoulder in reassurance. “Glad you’re okay, bro.”
“Thanks for saving my ass, man.”
I honestly don’t know what would have happened if Jake hadn’t come right when he did. My lungs burn at the memory of water nearly invading them.
“Goodness gracious, what the heck happened back there?” Daija asks in horror.
“What happens in fight club stays in fight club,” Jake jokes.
Daija frowns at him, placing her hands on her hips. “That’s not funny, Jake!”
“No, it’s really not. You might need stitches there,” Arlo informs me, nodding toward my eyebrow. “And you could have a concussion. I would advise a doctor’s visit.”
Going to the hospital is the last thing I feel like doing when Tate is inviting me home with him. “It stopped bleeding, and I never even blacked out. I’ll be fine,” I insist confidently.
Arlo shakes his head, muttering something under his breath.
“I’ll see you at home, boo. Put some ice on that, okay? Both of you,” Daija says, giving Tate a quick hug before following Jake into the bar and out to the parking lot.
Kaylee says goodbye next and joins her cheerleader friends inside.
“Tate, can I speak to you for a second before you go?” Arlo asks, pulling him to the side.
They chat quickly, looking up at me a few times. Tate’s brows crease with what looks like concern, and Arlo passes him something before he comes back over to me.
Tate reaches up toward my cheek, cupping it gently. “Come here,” he commands softly, and I bend down. He clicks on a small flashlight and shines it in both of my eyes, staring intently into them. “Good. Pupils constricted. Equal in size. No sign of concussion.”
“Hmm,” I hum low. “That was sexy. How do you know that?”
“I watch a lot of Grey’s Anatomy,” Tate chuckles with a wink, and I smile, grimacing when the split in my lip pulls.
Tonight was a disaster. A literal fucking disaster, but I’m just grateful nothing worse happened and that we’re going home together. I’ve missed his cuddles.
“Let’s go to my place, I need to clean your wounds,” Tate whispers in a breathy, sexy-as-fuck tone while he threads his fingers through mine. “I’ll be your nurse,” he adds, and a shiver of arousal runs down my spine.
“Come on,” I growl, tugging him along. Taking a deep breath, I push through the back door like a man on a mission and focus straight ahead.
I ignore the shocked gasps and stares from the bar patrons staring at my bloody face and sandy, water-logged clothes.
I pull Tate against me as we get closer to the exit, ushering him ahead while I open the door.
“My Jeep is around the corner, a block down.”
“Fuck. Really? That’s a long walk after the beach,” Tate whines.
Despite the ache in my ribs, I let go of his hand and bend down. “Hop on,” I offer.
Tate giggles, gently climbing on and wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. He presses his face to the non-injured side of mine and sighs. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” he whispers so softly I barely hear him.
“I’m fine,” I insist, as Tate nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Are you?” I ask in return.
“Yeah. Just a little bruised, but I’ll live.” He kisses my cheek, rubbing his semi-hard cock against my back, whether he realizes it or not. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips tickling my skin and sending goosebumps across my body.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I mutter, and he repositions himself, pressing his cock further into my back.