Chapter 7
7
Nico
“What did you do to Summer?” Kaitlyn asks, or rather, accuses.
I groan in response. It’s too early in the morning to deal with this. What time is it? Eight-thirty. Doesn’t she realize it’s Saturday morning? Since when does Kaitlyn call me at this hour?
“I have no clue what you’re talking about or why you’re calling me.” And all I want is to grab another hour or two of sleep.
“She texted that she’s sorry, but she can’t make it to Ava’s.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” I say through a yawn.
“I’m sorry, did I interrupt your morning blow-off?”
I chuckle. “No, more like blow job.” I wish .
“You’re gross.”
“I’m joking.” I don’t know why they think I hook up all the time. Just because I keep my private life private and don’t look to cross lines with the women in the league like Timmy does, doesn’t mean I’m banging a new chick every week.
“That’s the problem, Nico. You don’t have a sense of humor. I’m sure whatever reason Summer has for avoiding us has to do with you.”
“Fuck off. I didn’t do anything. I haven’t seen her since we all went to the bar.”
“Go check on her. It’s the least you can do.”
“What? Why me? If you’re so worried, then you check up on her.”
“You have a better excuse. She’s your partner, and you should develop a friendship with her.”
Friendship? With Summer? That’s an oxymoron.
I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I grumble. When the hell did I become Summer’s keeper? “What’s her address?”
“I don’t have it.”
“And I do?”
“It’s on the form you had us fill out to join the league.”
Right. I have those all electronically. “Fine. I’ll pass by when I get the chance.”
“Go now, and maybe you can convince her to come to Ava’s. If not, let her know we’re thinking about her.”
“I think she’ll get the hint when I show up at her door,” I say before hanging up and heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.
This is stupid. I shouldn’t be here. I spot Summer’s car in the community lot and park next to it. That’s not creepy at all. I look in my rearview mirror and run my hand through my hair.
Fuck!
Why the hell did I agree to this? I feel like a stalker showing up here. Especially since I didn’t text or call first. I have enough problems dealing with Summer. The last thing I need is to be slapped with a restraining order.
Keeping my sunglasses on, I get out of the car and head toward her apartment. I want to turn around and go home with every step.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I spot her heading my way. Great, she’s out for a walk or heading to her car to leave. Can I pretend I don’t see her? Shit, that’s even weirder. My heart hammers in my chest.
This is going to be so fucking awkward. I should’ve had something prepared to say before I got out of the car—some excuse for being here.
Summer’s dirty blonde hair hangs loose, well past her shoulders, and frames her beautiful face. Wow. I’ve never seen it down before.
I wonder if she sees me, but I can’t see her eyes. Between her sunglasses and the fact that she’s looking at the ground, I have no idea what she notices or doesn’t notice. That’s strange. Summer always walks with her head held high, like she’s the princess and we’re all here to serve her needs.
A few feet away, and Summer is so completely focused on whatever is running through that beautiful head of hers, I’m not even a blip on her radar. She doesn’t lift her eyes or veer off to the side as she continues in my direction. I think she’ll dart away at the last second.
Maybe I should blink first. Turn around and head back to my car. She’s alive; I can go home now. My purpose for coming was to check up on her. I did. My job is done.
“Uhh, Sorry.” Summer groans as she crashes into me, still not looking up.
“Summer?” I pretend I’m surprised to see her. She still doesn’t show a spark of recognition. She realizes it’s me she walked into, doesn’t she?
Finally, Summer tilts her head up, but I can’t see her eyes through the extra dark tint of her sunglasses. She pulls them down low enough for me to notice the narrowing of her eyes. “Niko?”
“Yep.”
Her eyes return to their normal size—well, the left one does. The right eye stays small and narrowed. I have difficulty swallowing as I notice she’s not closing it on purpose; it’s swollen.
I scan her face. Her eye isn’t the only thing swollen; it’s the whole right side of her face. My jaw clenches, my hands ball into fists, and my muscles tighten. My whole world turns upside down.
“What happened?” I snap as anger surges through me.
She shakes her head and pulls her hair forward on the right side, hiding what she doesn’t want me to see. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
Bullshit! “You don’t have to be afraid.” I try to soften my voice. It’s hard to sound calm when I can’t see straight. My blood pumps so hard little spots invade my field of vision. “Tell me who did this,” I reach up and stop short of touching her. “I’ll see to it that he never touches you again.”
“What are you, a mob boss?”
Of course, she’s looking to defend him. Isn’t that what women in abusive relationships do? Now it all makes sense. Her defensive posture and inability to maintain eye contact with me. This whole time, it wasn’t me. She’s afraid of him.
“This isn’t the time to push my buttons. Not when you’re hurt.” I want her to understand that I’m not a threat to her, only to the fucker that laid hands on her. “I can help. I promise. Let me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not!” She’s infuriating. I need to get her away from here so she feels safe enough to tell me what happened, but she’s still pushing me away. “You can tell me the truth. I won’t judge. I’m more than happy to run interference for you while you pack a bag. We can figure out where to go after that.”
She sighs. “You’re such a guy.” Punch to the nose. She's insulting me? Really?
“What does that mean?”
“No one hurt me. I’m going to the doctor. Something’s up with my eye. It’s been going on all week and getting worse every day.”
I brush her silky hair behind her right ear to get a better look. She winces. I hope it’s because she’s in pain and not because I touched her. That’s not the reaction I want, nor is it one I’m used to. I consider her words as I look for bruising; it’s non-existent.
“You really want to help me?” Ahh, the sound of pride being swallowed.
“Yes.” I nod. “Tell me what you need, and you’ve got it.” What kind of man would I be if I didn’t do what I could for her?
Her hand rises to her forehead but stops before she runs it through her hair, and once again, I see a wince.
“I’m going to urgent care. If you really want to help, drive me?”
“Of course. Come on.”
“You know what? Instead of urgent care, make it the ER.”
“Do you have an emergency bag?”
“Huh?”
“A bag with clothes and toiletries in case they keep you.”
“They’re not going to keep me. I have a problem with my eye, not appendicitis.”
I’m volunteering to deal with this attitude? Why? Is it too late to call an Uber and send her on her way?
I press the button on the key fob to unlock my car. “Where’s the closest ER?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“You live here.”
“Only for a couple of months, remember?”
I shake my head and search my phone for the closest hospital. This definitely isn’t what I had planned for my Saturday.