He crawled away while keeping his eyes on me, too scared to give me his back. Pussy.
Within seconds, I was spinning around and picking Blakely up as adrenaline coursed through my veins like a parade. Thump, thump, thump went my heart as I cradled her and walked toward a side hallway. Rose and security rushed by to check on the other patrons, but I was worried about one person only.
Blakely.
She trembled in my arms as I set her down. Steady feet kissed the ground as her back braced itself against the wall. Her shirt was completely soaked through, and with every staggering inhale, the movement highlighted the fact that her clothes were sticking to her petite frame. Where her tank top dipped, I noticed that her cleavage was blooming a bright shade of red.
“Are you okay?” I asked before gathering a clump of her fallen hair, which was sticky from the alcohol, and pushing it out of her face.
Bright tears fell like icicles down her cheeks as she chewed on her lower lip and lifted her eyes to meet mine. “I’m fine,” she rasped before rubbing her palm across her chest. “He just knocked the air out of me.”
I looked around and noticed that a supply closet was nearby. Threading my fingers through hers, I pulled her with me to the door, opened it, and guided her inside. “Do you want me to look?” I asked. The room was stacked with canned goods, and a dim light hung overhead. She pulled her shirt down, ever so slowly until it was at the wire of her bra. I would’ve usually been kicking myself for such a perfect view, but I was too busy worrying if she was okay. The curve of her cleavage was starting to bruise, a grayish color peppering her flawless skin. I wanted to kill them.
“Does it hurt to breathe?” I asked. She tested my question out with a deep inhale, the air rattling in her chest before she whooshed it out. I breathed in the smell of her breath, getting drunk on mint gum and Diet Coke.
“Not really,” she replied before letting go of her shirt. Because it was drenched, the elasticity didn’t give. So instead of resuming its job of covering her up, the gaping trim still showed off the spot where a bruise was forming. It was like a beacon of pain, and I wanted nothing more than to make it disappear, take the throbbing on as my own.
She shook. I clenched my fist.
“Let me go get you some ice, okay?” I asked. I could hear loud voices on the other side of the door, and even though I knew she needed something, I wasn’t quite ready to leave. She was secluded. She was safe.
I had turned to leave when thin fingers wrapped around my forearm, stopping me. “Don’t go?” her stuttered voice pleaded. I turned back to look at her, and my heart sank. There was fresh, crisp fear burning through her eyes. The green hue was feral with anxiety. She bit her lip again.
I braced my hands on her shoulders, lightly holding her still. I wanted to crush her to my chest but didn’t trust myself to do so. “You’re safe now,” I promised. She would always be safe with me. She closed the distance between us and wrapped her slender arms around my neck. I felt her lips brush against my collarbone as she breathed me in as if to steady herself on my scent.
“Tell me a truth?” she asked. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to rip my brain apart for her to analyze if it meant that it would put her at ease. My mind flashed back to the Ferris wheel, where she willingly distracted me with stories. I decided to do that for her, too.
“I haven’t been in a fight since I was thirteen years old,” I admitted. “A guy was giving Lance a hard time. He had just started dating another boy, and you know how cruel middle schoolers can be. Lance has always loved people. Loved souls. He got his first kiss from a sweet girl in kindergarten and hasn’t stopped since.”
She nodded in understanding while keeping her face against my chest. She slithered her left hand down from around my neck until it was clutching the fabric of my shirt. “I was awful at it. If it weren’t for the teachers interrupting us, I probably would’ve had my ass beat.” Even though it was a painful memory, I couldn’t help but smile at it. I was so determined to take care of my best friend that I was willing to have a black eye and a bloody lip. And bruised ribs. And a bruised pride.
She hummed in appreciation, her lips vibrating against my pulse. “The first man that ever hit me was Mama’s boyfriend. I was six years old,” she said. Every bone in my body went rigid. “He looked like that guy out there, actually,” she continued. I felt my skin grow wet and cold from her tears; every exhale was brushing against the trail of wetness, making a shiver travel up my spine. I breathed her in as she continued, “He was drunk. Just like that guy was. He was aiming for Mama, but I was trying to protect her.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I guess I was always trying to protect her.”
I clutched Blakely tighter, confident that my firm hold would cut the circulation off in her torso. She pulled back to look up at me, her bottom lip trembling as she shook her head once again and released my shirt to wipe her face with her fingers. “Tell me another truth,” she pleaded.
“I hate the word nothing,” I whispered.
She blinked a couple of times while staring at me. I was a dumbass for letting that truth slip. “My chest hurts,” she finally said while taking another step back. Her foot dragged across the floor as she increased the space between us. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but a loud knocking on the door stopped me in my tracks.
“Blakely, baby? You in there?” Rose’s soft voice called out just before the knob turned. When the door opened, I sucked in a deep breath, but Blakely saved me from explaining why we were crowded together and in a room with the air so thick we could have suffocated on it.
“Hey, Rose. Sorry. I had a panic attack, and Decker got me away from the noise,” she explained. The vulnerability in her tone ate at me until I was nothing left but teeth marks.
“Oh, baby!” Rose said in her posh accent while her face wrinkled up in sadness. “I’m so sorry; my security team hauled those assholes out of here. Do you need anything?” she asked.
Blakely nodded. “Can I go home, please? Where’s my brother?”
“Of course, child. Your brother is outside looking for you. I have a spare change of clothes; wanna slip into it before you go?” We filtered out of the storage room as I felt Rose’s eyes on my torso. I looked down and saw wet marks from when Blakely clutched me close. Shit.
“I’m going to go find him,” Blakely said with a sniffle before wiping her hand across her mouth. She started walking down the hallway but paused to look back at me. “Coming, Mr. Harris?” she asked. I hated that I was Mr. Harris again. I didn’t want to be her teacher right now. I didn’t want to be her brother’s best friend. I wanted to be Decker. Protector. Healer. Savior. Lover.
“Be right there,” I replied stoically.
Rose’s voice cut through the static in my head, catching me off guard. “You got it bad, Deck,” she whispered, too low for Blakely to hear but loud enough for me to shiver with shame.
I didn’t respond, because what could I say? Yeah. I had it bad. But there was nothing I could do about it.
18
Blakely
Since the incident at the bar a few weeks ago, a lot of nothing had happened. Rose moved me to the hostess stand, which meant no tips. I wasn’t necessarily complaining. I felt safer at the front of the bar as it was near security. But still, I hated how shaken up I was. The bruise from my accidental attack had faded, but I still could feel the hit. It wasn’t his fists my memory kept conjuring up, it was Mama’s ex-boyfriends.