Her mouth dropped open, and she gaped up at me like a fish out of water for several seconds before someone started to pound on her front door.
“Stella Marie Ryan, you open this door right now!” An unfamiliar booming voice called through the cheap wood.
I looked back to Stella and felt my brows inch up toward my hairline. “I’m guessing since you just got middle named, your sister already spilled the beans, and that’s your old man out there?”
Her head fell back on a dramatic groan. “Will this night never end?” she called up to the heavens.
And damn if she wasn’t also hot as hell when she was covered in bruises and pouting like a toddler.
Thirteen
Stella
This was the night from hell, no doubt about it. It was like that godawful song from when I was a kid, the one that would never end. It went on and on my friend. This night was that song. A fucking nightmare that made you want to take a knitting needle to your eardrums.
“I just want some sleep,” I cried to whatever higher power would listen. “Is that too damn much to ask?”
“You have to the count of three,” my dad bellowed. “Then I’m beating this goddamn door down!”
And he would too. Joe Ryan might have been a softy when it came to his kids and wife, but the man was not to be messed with. Standing only an inch shorter than West’s nearly six and a half feet, my dad was a brick house. He’d always been in incredible shape, and even though he’d gotten a bit soft around the middle as he got older, that power was still there. Jason had been terrified of my dad, and with good reason. There was more than one occasion where Dad had wanted to do to him exactly what West had just done . . . and then some.
Not wanting to risk my security deposit—not that I thought my slimy landlord would give it back if I ever got out of this place—I pushed past West and trudged to my door, twisting the lock and yanking it open to reveal my entire family, minus Kira, who was probably at home with Sasha since it was the middle of the freaking night.
“Oh, my sweet baby!” Mom cried as soon as the door swung open. She stepped close, reaching up like she wanted to take my cheeks in her hands, but stopped when she realized there was no good place to touch me. My entire face felt like one giant, throbbing bruise, so I was sure it looked the same.
“Hi, Mom.”
She let out a sniffle and curled her lips between her teeth, so I turned my attention to my dad while she tried to compose herself.
All the color drained from his face, and his ravaged expression nearly did me in as he rasped out, “Oh, Starshine. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay, Daddy.” My voice came out in a croak as I fought to keep from bursting into sobs at my big, strong dad looking so broken. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I lied. I hadn’t actually seen myself in the mirror yet—I’d been too scared of what I might find—but if how I was feeling was any indication, it might have actually been worse than it looked. Not that I’d ever let him know that. I stepped to the side to allow my family entrance into the shoebox I lived in, making the space feel so much smaller.
All four Ryans stared at me like I’d just announced I was shaving my head and gluing all the hair to my face so I could run off and join the circus as the bearded lady. Dad looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Spencer looked sick to his stomach, and Mom and Serenity had tears in their eyes.
“Come on, guys. Don’t look at me like that.” I couldn’t handle it. My family’s pain made me want to curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that luxury. “Give me a few days and I’ll be as right as rain.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Spencer clipped. “A few days isn’t going to fix this. You should be in a hospital right now.”
West chose that moment to speak up, drawing the attention of everyone in my apartment. “I had her checked out in Hope Valley. She’ll be all right, but she’s got a nasty concussion, among other things, and needs to rest.”
“Oh my,” my mother muttered under her breath.
“Who the hell are you?” Spencer snapped, the protective big brother coming out to play at the sight of a man standing in his baby sister’s apartment.
“Guys, this is Weston Scott. He’s . . . a friend.” Was that really true? Could I honestly consider a man I’d met all of twice a friend? If I looked at things logically, this dude was a stranger, straight up. So why didn’t it feel that way? “He helped me tonight. After . . . well, this.” I lifted my arms as best I could to indicate the mess of bruises.
“You can call me West,” he told my family.
“Oh my hell,” Serenity breathed before turning to me with wide eyes. “This is him? Well done, Stell Bell.”
“No. No well done. There’s nothing done,” I spoke before she could make things worse than they already were.
Spencer, clearly still not satisfied with my answer, turned to face West fully, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms in order to look intimidating, even though it was obvious West would come out the winner in a fight between the two of them. “Appreciate you looking out for her and all, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still here.”
My mother spoke just then, interrupting my brother. “Stella, honey, why are your clothes thrown around everywhere?” She pulled in a sharp gasp, her wide eyes coming to me. “Did someone break in? Was it—” She stopped, unable to finish that sentence as she lifted a hand to her chest and swallowed thickly. “Oh my God. Were you robbed?” I might have taken my neat freak tendencies a bit too far if a bit of mess took my mom’s imagination straight to B&E. I’d always been a little OCD when it came to cleanliness. Even as a kid, my room was spotless, while my siblings lived in pigpens. Where I failed at cooking, I excelled at cleaning, and besides, my apartment was bad enough. The very least I could do was make it look as nice as possible.
“No, Mom, no one broke in,” I answered quickly, before her mind could run amuck.
“I did that, ma’am,” West said politely. “We were just getting ready to pack a bag for Stella. With the concussion and all, she really shouldn’t be by herself, so she’d going to be staying with me for a while.”
I whipped around on him and instantly regretted it when it felt like my brain was rattling around inside my skull. “The hell I am,” I shot back, panic setting in at the thought of staying with him . . . alone . . . in his house . . . with a bed and stuff nearby. It wasn’t that I was scared of him. Quite the opposite. I was drawn to this man I didn’t know from Adam in a very real and crazy way. My brain was screaming abort, abort while my girly parts were trying to remember the last time they’d had a wax.
I had precisely zero time for romance of any sorts, given the mess my life was currently in, so the best possible thing I could do was stay as far away from West Scott as humanly possible. The man made it far too easy to forget what was really important. For example, that near-kiss back at The Tap Room.
Damn it! Now I was thinking about kissing him again.
Those fire and amber eyes met mine, making my insides all fluttery and warm. “Stella, we’ve discussed this.”