When he comes back to my face, the intense look in his eyes makes me clench my thighs together and ask, “Are we really doing this?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I bite my lip. “It’s going to be difficult.”
“I’m not afraid of difficult.”
I remember what Con said about our dad and the words slip out before I can stop them. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I know.”
“You might not…”
“I might not what?”
I swallow again, crossing my dangling ankles, curling my toes. “You might not be able to have… fun and stuff. Like you used to.”
His eyes narrow. “Yeah, I don’t have fun anymore, remember? Not since I met this blonde ballerina and made her dance for me.”
You haunt me, Fae…
His raspy voice from that night floats across my brain and I suck in my belly. And the fact that he tried but he hasn’t been with anyone in the past two years.
Don’t think about that, Callie.
“My brothers –”
“I’m going to handle your fucking brothers.”
And then I blurt something else out and surprise him once again. “Where’s your bathroom?”
The sudden change of subject throws him. “Is it –”
I slide off the island and come down to my feet. “No, I’m fine.”
“Then what…”
I approach him and crane my neck up. “Because I need to know.”
He’s confused again and I realize that I haven’t ever seen him so out of his depth before. “Uh, down the hallway. Third door on the left.”
Smiling up at him, I grab his wrist, shocking him further. Shocking myself too.
I tug on his arm and maybe it’s the shock of things but he goes easily.
He comes with me where I take him as I walk down the hallway to the third door on the left. When I open it, Reed hits the switch and floods the most beautiful bathroom that I’ve ever seen with light. It’s all glass and white marble, polished and wintry, and yet when I step inside with bare feet, the floor is warm and cozy.
Sort of like him, isn’t it?
My gorgeous villain.
I let go of his hand and open the bathroom cabinet and thank God, what I want is right there.
The first aid kit.
I bring it out and set it on the marble sink and open the tap to hot water, adjusting the temperature of it.
“What are you doing?” he asks from behind me.
I look at him in the mirror, standing tall under the overhead light, looking beautiful even with the nasty bruises. “Something that I thought I’d never do again.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Cleaning your wounds.”
His wolf eyes sparkle with memories. That time when I was so eager to clean his wounds that I locked him inside the storage closet of the auditorium.
I never thought that I’d tend to him again. I never thought I’d want to.
But here I am.
“It’s fine.”
I knew he’d say that. “I know. It always is.”
“So —”
“And I know that my brother is fine too.”
“What?”
When the water is to my liking, I turn around and walk up to him. “You didn’t fight back, did you? When Ledger came for you last night.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
“He’s fine. I spared him.”
“Like you did two years ago,” I say, studying his damaged face. “When he came for you for breaking my heart.”
The harsh lines of his face become harsher. “It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve.”
“I know that too,” I whisper, swallowing. “But you didn’t deserve this.”
He scoffs. “I —”
“Because if you deserve to be punished for her.” I press my hand on my belly and as always, he glances down. “I deserve to be punished too. You didn’t do this alone.”
His chest contracts and I hear him breathe out. “I’m not interested in talking about who did what. And as I said, I’m fine.”
I feel the flutters under my palm. “And as I said, I know. But I’m doing this for later.”
“For later?”
“Yeah. It’s still dark out so maybe my brothers don’t know I’m missing. Not yet. And I also know that no matter how many times I tell you, you won’t put me in a cab. You’ll bring me back yourself. Because for some reason, you’re weirdly protective of me.”
He shifts on his feet. “What’s the point?”
“The point is that when you do bring me back yourself, they’ll only beat you up again. This time for kidnapping me. So I want to clean your wounds before you get new ones.”
Reed studies my face and probably sees the determination in it. Because I’m not budging.
If we’re pointing fingers about who did what then I should be the one to blame. It was my spur of the moment plan. I wanted to move on so badly that I misled him. So if we’re blaming someone, it should be me.
But we’re not.
Because he’s right.
It doesn’t matter how she came into existence and it doesn’t matter that this is going to be so difficult. Because she’s not a mistake, and I’m not going to blame or point fingers when I have her to think about now.
When we have her.
He says gruffly, “Fine.”
With that, he goes to the closed toilet seat and sits down on it and my breaths scatter for a second. I know why he did that. I know why he took a seat.
Because of the stark differences in our heights.
Because last time when I did this I had to get up on a stepstool to tend to his wounds.
So he’s made it easier for me without me having to tell him first. He’s even got his hands resting on his thighs, his veins all taut and thick under his moon-kissed skin. Like he’s ready now and he won’t stop me if I want to clean his cuts and scrapes.
And so I go to do that.
I walk up to him as he sits there like a king.
No, like a criminal. A thug. A villain.
All bruised up and battered and I’m the girl he’s chosen to tend to him tonight. The girl who’ll take care of him.
I clean them up as I try to control my breathing, my heartbeats. As I try to control this rush, this warmth in my chest at the onslaught of memories and the fact that he’s being so… good.
So docile.
For me.
But his eyes tell another story. His eyes are thrumming with currents, with pulses that makes me think of our one night together.
Don’t, Callie. Please.
When I’m done and I go to put everything back into the cabinet, I notice something.
Something I hadn’t before: colorful little boxes stacked on the top shelf.