The second Ethan laid his hands on her and she tried to break free from his grip, I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and I was done. Cooked. Because I knew if he didn’t let go of her, Iwas going to do something stupid—something far worse than breaking his nose.
I step forward, feeling the pulse of adrenaline in my veins as my shadow falls over him. “Let. Her. Go.” When he doesn’t move, I add, “Now.”
Ethan’s eyes dart between us, his grip still tight on Tatum’s arm. I can see him calculating—weighing his options and measuring his consequences.
I stand my ground, my body tensed and ready. If he’s looking for a fight, he’ll get one. And for a heartbeat, I think he might actually take a swing at me. And I hope he does, because I want nothing more than to put him on his ass, and this time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get back up.
His jaw works, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he stares me down. But then his eyes flick to something over my shoulder—probably his friends watching from the bar—and the fight seems to drain out of him.
He releases Tatum’s arm with a dismissive flick of his wrist, as if he was never holding it in the first place. “This isn’t over,” he spits at her, venom lacing every word before he shoves past me, deliberately ramming his shoulder into mine as he staggers away.
I watch him for a moment to make sure he’s really leaving before turning my attention to what matters most. Or, rather, who matters most.
Tatum stands there, trembling like a shaking leaf, and the sight of it makes my blood boil all over again.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to calm myself down as I gently brush a strand of hair from her face and duck my head to catch her gaze. “Hey,” I say softly. “You okay?”
She nods, but it’s not convincing with the way she circles her arms around herself as if it’s the only thing holding her together. “I just want to go back to my room,” she whispers, her voice so small and tired, I can barely make out the words.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let me just send the guys a quick text I’m leaving.”
“No. You don’t have to do that,” she says, taking a step back. “You’re with your friends, having fun. I can just walk back by myself.”
I cock my head, sure she must be joking, but when it’s clear she’s not, I tip her chin up with my hand and say, “I’d rather be with you any day of the week, and even if that weren’t the case, I’m sure as hell not letting you walk back alone.”
I release her chin without waiting for a response, then fire off a text to the guys, and shove the phone back in my pocket. “Come on,” I say, my tone gentle as I place a hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the exit.
The cool night air wraps around us as we step outside, and she shivers. Without thinking, I slip off my hoodie and ease it over her head, my fingers brushing her hair as she tugs it closer, burying herself in its warmth. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice soft enough to disappear into the wind.
I glance down at her ridiculous boots—the kind that look like they were designed by someone who’s never walked morethan ten feet—and make a split-second decision. Before she can protest, I crouch, hook an arm behind her knees, and sweep her up in one smooth motion.
She lets out a startled yelp, her hands flying to my neck. “Brandon! What are you doing?”
“Carrying you,” I say, adjusting her easily against my chest as I start walking, “before those torture devices finish the job.”
“You can’t carry me all the way back to the dorms. It’s a ten-minute walk,” she protests.
“So?”
“So . . . that’s too far.”
My grip on her tightens as I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Tate, I’m not having you walk back to your dorm in those shoes when I know your feet are killing you.”
“Okay, but Icanwalk,” she says with a lack of conviction that makes me chuckle.
“I like it better this way,” I say, not giving a damn if she reads into it or not.
She falls quiet, her body gradually melting against mine as I carry her across campus. The weight of her against me feels right—like she was meant to fit here, in my arms, where the world finally makes a little sense. Her head finds my shoulder, and with each step, I feel the tension drain from her, her breathing evening out against my chest.
We’re silent as I carry her back, and it’s the kind of silence that hums with things I’m not brave enough to say. I can’t stop wondering what this means—her fighting with Ethan, lettingme carry her, not pulling away. Is she finally seeing what’s been right in front of her? Or am I just fooling myself again?
The campus is hushed at this hour, only the distant laughter of a few stragglers breaking the quiet. Tate’s warmth seeps through me, steady and real, and for a moment I let myself imagine this is something we can get back to—something we almost lost.
When we reach her dorm, she stirs, and the spell begins to break.
“You can put me down now,” she murmurs, reaching for her keys. “I can unlock it.”
I shake my head, feeling only a little selfish when I say, “No way. I’m not putting you on your feet until you’re out of those damn boots. Give me your keys.”
