Grabbing a towel from the stainless-steel rack, I wrapped it around my hands. I needed to get out of here. The glowing exit sign in the back corner called to me.
People jumped out of the way. There wasn’t time to apologize for being the asshole with blood all over him in their kitchen. I wiped at my hands with the towel, staining it bright red, but the blood was still there.
I turned and rushed toward the sign. My heart raced even harder now. Bile rushed for my throat. And spots danced in front of my eyes.
In the alley, the wet grit crunched under my shoes. I checked down both ends of the alley.
The door slammed behind me, only to open a second later.
“Keyton!” Bay called after me.
My hand throbbed. I gripped the towel even tighter making my fist jump like it had a heart of its own.
“Go back inside.” It was dangerous out here for her. Was she safe anywhere? “It’s not safe.”
Less than two steps later, she grabbed my arm, spinning me around. “Where are you going?” Her hair was mussed, the low, casual style ruined like I’d been running my fingers through it all afternoon.
Behind her, Holden and Eric hovered in the doorway. Why the hell couldn’t we have come in this way?
“I need to get out of here.”
She held onto my arm. “Okay, I don’t think the car can fit down here, but we can meet the driver at the end of the alley.” Her head whipped around.
Shaking her off, I stepped back. Wrestling with my demons wasn’t over and I didn’t want her near me.
“I’m going. You stay. Go back inside with Holden.”
“You can’t leave.” She held onto me, her fingers gripped tight and panic in her voice.
Her worry softened me some, bringing me back to myself even more, but it still wasn’t safe. She needed to go. “You’ll be fine. They’ll keep you safe. Just get back inside.”
“I can’t go back in there without you.”
“You’ve done it for the past six years without me.” I snapped, cursing myself for not being able to protect her.
She stared into my eyes and licked her lips. Her gaze dipped before shooting back up to mine. “I don’t want to go back in there without you.”
I ripped the towel from around my hand. “I’ve got another guy’s blood all over me. I wanted to kill him, choke the life out of him for trying to hurt you.”
“But you didn’t. You stopped yourself.” She pressed her hand against my chest. “No one blames you. I don’t blame you. He could’ve hurt me. He could have hurt other people.”
My heart pumped wildly against my ribcage. “I don’t care about any of them. All I care about is you.” I raised my hand and stilled before touching her face. Blood still covered my skin. It dripped down the side of my hand, dotting the crisp white cuff of my shirt.
Her gaze shot to my hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s not—” I stared at my hand. The bright red blood continued to roll down my hand and off the tips of my fingers when I held it out in front of me.
Bay gripped my wrist, her fear palpable. “Holden! He’s hurt.” She jerked me forward, rushing toward the open door.
There was a flurry of activity, bodies and shouting, only this time, Bay held onto me. We were guided into a bathroom.
Holden cursed under his breath. “We’ll have someone here in a couple seconds to get you checked out. There’s someone at the door. No one who isn’t supposed to come in here will get in.” He gripped the edge of the window before disappearing.
Inside the bathroom, I shoved my hands under the faucet and pumped at the soap dispenser, rubbing my hand and hissing at the sharp burn. The water went from red to pink, but I kept my hands under the flowing water.
A slice down the side of my hand was where all the blood had spilled from. At least I didn’t have to worry about this screwing up my non-existent playing time.
“Keyton.” Bay’s voice drew me from the furious scrubbing.
“I’m fine.” I ran one hand over the other. The flow of blood wasn’t as steady anymore.
In her hands, she clutched a handful of paper towels.
She reached for my hand.
I snatched it away, not wanting to get blood on her. “It’s fine.”
“Stop saying that. It’s not fine. You were hurt.” Her voice wobbled.
Jerking up straight, I reached for her with my uninjured hand. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” Her voice cracked and her eyes glistened, fingers tightening around the off-white paper towels. “You got cut protecting me.”
Somehow her backing away with remorse and guilt filling her eyes like the tears she blinked back sliced even deeper than any wound.
“Hey.” I lunged for her, keeping my hand away from her. Dragging her back to me, I pressed my hand against the small of her back and held her against me. “This isn’t your fault.”
The door burst open and the medic rushed in with a huge red bag.
After slapping on some gloves and sitting me in a chair someone brought in from the restaurant, he got to work.
The cut wouldn’t even need stitches. A few butterfly bandages and some medical glue took care of it. He wrapped it in a bandage. The whole time, my gaze was locked onto Bay.
“Keep it dry. If it gets red and tender in the next week or so, you might need antibiotics. But you should go get it checked out by your doctor as well, since you work with your hands…and we need you this season.” The medic offered a nervous smile and a fist bump before leaving. A gentle thud of the door signaling his departure.
Bay stood with her arms wrapped around herself. Holden had brought in another chair for her after she insisted on staying after letting us know the event had been cancelled and we’d be leaving as soon as I was checked out and we gave our reports to the police.
She slipped out of the bathroom and another officer came in to take my statement while Bay gave hers.
My gaze stayed trained on the door, waiting for her to come back and not wanting to look at my blood-stained sleeve.
Bay rushed back in and the officer asked her for her autograph. Her fucking autograph. She’d been attacked and people still wanted her. A dot of my blood stained the sleeve of her dress and here she was signing autographs for fans. I didn’t want it to make me bitter, but a part of me wanted to lash out and lock her up in my apartment where she’d be safe.
The pit in my stomach widened into a cavern. “I’m sorry.”
Her head shot up. The rest of her following along with it. “Stop saying that. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I went after that guy.”
“Are we doing this again? You mean you went after the attacker with the knife? The one who could’ve hurt me or anyone else out there?” Her cold hands cupped my cheeks as she crouched in front of me in her heels. “You took him out, restrained him and let the professionals take over. You have nothing to be sorry about.
“I’m sorry.”
It was my turn to jerk my head back. “Mind filling me in on what you have to be sorry about?” I pulled her onto my lap, the throb and burn in my hand easily ignorable when I held her. Having her this close helped make everything feel less terrible. She hadn’t backed away or looked at me like she was scared. She hadn’t had to scream my name to get me off the guy.