Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ten Months Ago
Greenhouse, Lloyd Commons Residence
Pain seared my scalp as Ash grasped my hair, yanking me back into the greenhouse. "You ungrateful bitch!"
The world shook and my stomach pitched. His face contorted into something unrecognizable. "I call the shots. It’s my fucking celebration." His grip tightened on my hair, and he jerked me forward. "I want to see some gratitude out of you."
I tried to shove him away, but he held on tight. I fought and clawed and kicked him in the shins.
"You stuck-up whore—"
His arm flew up to block Maddox's punch. I stumbled as Ash released me, caught my balance and turned.
"Oh, you want a piece of me, is that it, Mick?" He staggered a step, then crouched into a fighting stance.
"Go sleep it off." Maddox's left hand flexed and curled back into a fist. Blood smeared across his knuckles and dripped onto the floor. "And when you wake up? You're still going to leave her alone."
"Don’t tell me what to do. You’re less than nobody without me.” Ash sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand against his jaw. "This whole team is. A buncha fucking nobodies."
"Maybe so. But you're the kind of trash that hurts women."
Ash lunged.
They tangled into a knot, grunting and growling. My heart in my throat, I backed away. I winced when Ash landed a blow to Maddox’s jaw.
"You’re a mistake. A grunt. Fucking jarhead." Ash spit on the floor, then turned toward me.
Everything tilted as I was shoved off-balance. I stumbled and pitched to the ground, my knees scraping rough concrete till they burned.
I sucked in a shaky breath as the world blurred in front of my eyes.
Why? How did it get like this? I caught him…he’d sent her away knowing he planned to propose to me. She left her bra behind on purpose.
More shouts and a crash—sounds buzzing, unreal, like a nightmare unfolding all around me.
Need to stop them. This. My legs weak and wobbly, I rose to my full height.
I turned in time to see Ash, kneeling on the ground. One hand pressed against the side of his face, he panted and gasped. He glanced at me over his shoulder. Cold eyes in a face I didn’t recognize. His lips curled into a sneer.
I swallowed and shuffled backward. “Maddox…” his name left my lips as if I’d already said it hundreds of times.
Ash lifted from the ground, stumbling toward me. “If you wanted to make me jealous by sleeping around behind my back? Should’ve picked someone better.” He grabbed the empty cornflower pot from the table. I cried out and reached for it as he swung, knocking the intended weapon from his hand.
The pot shattered on the cement floor, as I lost my balance, landing on my rear as I tried to catch myself with my hands. Something sharp sliced and stung my palms. But all I knew in that moment was Maddox’s face—blood smeared across his left cheekbone. Those gentle eyes flashing in the light.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
He struck with his right fist. Powerful. Sharp. Taut muscles and raw power hit Ash square in the jaw. Ash howled as he crumpled to the ground.
I leaned back against the table, my whole body vibrating. Hot blood dripped down my wrist. I cradled my arm, applying pressure to the wound. I closed my eyes to hold back tears.
A gentle hand found my shoulder as Maddox kneeled into my world.
He wrapped a towel around my arm. A deep scowl marred his features. Sharp, severe lines. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
I shook my head. I tried to find the words to apologize. To say something that made sense.
“You’ll come crawling back to me, Bree.” Ash groaned.
No, I won’t.
"Come on,” Maddox said as he helped me to my feet. “We need to get you out of here. Before I end up killing him."
I thought maybe I should laugh at that. Like he was trying to make me feel better. Everyone liked Ash. He was going to play in the AFL. The golden boy quarterback…
“I don’t want to be with someone like him,” I whispered.
Maddox’s arm tightened around me.
Maddox led me from the greenhouse to the parking lot situated behind the fraternity house. I liked the feel of his rushed-but-careful touches, the protective bent of his arm around me.
My legs managed to stop trembling in the outside air, but I kept a hold on my arm.
“How did you get here?” His voice rumbled as he released me. A breeze stirred the air and I shivered.
“Did you drive?”
I shook my head. “I, uh, came with…someone. A friend.”
“Do you want me to find them for you?”
“No.” Tears welled all over again, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to be messy and emotional. I wanted to be strong, cool, unaffected. “I can. I can text them. Or call a rideshare. You’ve already—”
“Hey,” he said as he tipped my chin to look at him. His voice sounded gentler than it had a moment before, but there was still a hard look to his eyes, a grim set to his features.
I knew, then, he was worlds apart from anyone else at that pathetic "party."
“I’d like to…make sure you get home OK.”
I looked away. “I think, I’ve caused you enough trouble. I didn’t realize…it didn’t occur to me—”
“Don’t,” he ducked his head and spoke in a quiet voice, beside my ear. “Just let me take you home.”
I ached to lean into him. To hold him, to let him hold me. Instead, I straightened, nodded and tried to manage a small smile.
He pulled away, dumping my duffle bag in the bed of his truck before helping me into the passenger seat. We settled into his truck, the doors locked, gears shifted. His rough hand with reddened knuckles reached for mine.
Air filled my lungs for what felt like the first time in…so long.
He unknotted and peeled back the towel. “It’s not deep.”
“It’ll be a problem during softball practice.” I let out a sigh. “I’ll have to have some story to tell my coach.”
“Softball.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“Why not tell them the truth?” He spoke to the windshield as his palm gently settled over mine.
It was warm and calloused, his fingers gently wrapping around my hand.
The connection strong but tender, it sparked electric tingles in my abdomen, and charged this magnetic “pull” between us.
Does he feel it too?
I blinked and glanced at his profile. “I just don’t want to open that can of worms.” I brushed my fingers over his swollen knuckles. “We should get you some ice for this.”
He nodded and retracted his hand to put the truck in gear. We rolled to the end of the parking lot, then turned onto Main Street before he said the words that changed my life.
"How long has he been abusing you?"