“It’s La Verda pizza.”
My stomach growls at the thought. Damn the man.
I open the door but leave the chain on, wary that this is all some kind of joke. Sure enough, there he is, standing with a couple of pizza boxes in his hands and a plastic bag hanging from his fingers.
“You want me to leave the food on the steps? I will, but I really just want to talk. That’s it.”
I blow out a shaky breath and pray I don’t live to regret this. I unhook the chain and open the door wider as I step back and let him in. He moves past me and heads right for the kitchen. Iclose the door and hesitate for a minute before following him in. I hover in the doorway as he places the pizza and bag on the table before he turns toward me.
I feel like a deer caught in the headlights as he takes me in. He steps toward me, which makes me take a step back. He swallows; his voice pitched lower than usual.
“I swear to God; I’m not going to hurt you.”
I fist my hands at my side, wondering if he has any idea how many times I heard those same words slip from his brother’s mouth.
Still, when he moves closer, I stand my ground until he’s so close I can feel his breath skate over my skin. I watch as his hand moves to the open sides of my jacket and feel my breath stall in my chest as he slowly opens it and slips it down my arms.
I don’t put up a fight. I pull my arms free and watch, mesmerized, as he flinches. He’s staring at my bruises as if they’re radioactive. With shaky hands, he trails his fingertips over the bruises.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he chokes out as I fight back my tears. He lifts his head and looks me dead in the eye. “Never again, Sorrow. I swear it on my brother’s grave.”
Chapter Twelve
BANNER
She rears back as if I hit her, making me curse for my careless choice of words.
“Shit, I’m sorry. My mouth engaged before my brain did. Can I…will you let me help clean you up before we eat? I just need to see for myself that you’re okay.”
Her wary expression makes me want to punch something, but I know that won’t help either of us. Of course, she’s fucking wary. Look what I did to her the last time I was here. Add to that the shit day she’s had, and I’m likely the last person she wants to see.
The thing is, seeing her like this reminds me of the hollow-eyed little girl who came into our lives before everything got messed up. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, which sometimes made her hard to relate to. She was so young yet, in some ways, so much older than me.
I saw the world through rose-colored lenses. I had great parents, good grades, lots of money, and opportunities available to me. Our life experiences were vastly different, and I don’t think I realized that until now.
I knew she was grateful to be at our place. She got to be a part of a family, something she didn’t have of her own. But now I’m thinking over Marcus’s words and looking back over our history without those damn tinted glasses. I feel like a fucking idiot because I can think of a dozen times when people praised my parents for being so charitable, even when Sorrow was right there to hear it. Imagine knowing she was the charity case everyone was talking about. Yes, she was included in a bunch of things, but we didn’t financially support her. She was at our house and hung out with us, but isn’t that what most teenagers do with their friends anyway? I don’t ever remember my parents’ charity extending to Sorrow’s school books or clothing. I don’t remember them getting involved in what was going on in this house that made a young girl spend all her days as far from here as possible.
Taking a risk, I take one of Sorrow’s hands in mine and tug her closer. Before she can protest, I scoop her up and sit her on the counter, ignoring my dick twitching at the sound of her shocked gasp.
I rummage through the kitchen drawers until I find some clean kitchen towels and run one under the water. I wring it out and walk back over to her. I slide my hand between her knees and nudge them apart so I can step between them. My dick hardens even further.
I gently use the damp cloth to clean the dried blood from her face and neck before looking down at her chest. She gulps but doesn’t stop me when I move the towel lower. She shivers as I clean her up, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or something else.
“There. I think the tank top is done for.” I place the towel next to her leg and slide my fingertips under the hem of her tank top. Her breath hitches, but when she doesn’t stop me, I slowlyglide the ruined material up her body. I wait for her to raise her arms, and when she does, I pull it free and toss it in the trash.
I frown as I see her grimace when she lowers her arms. “Are you hurt somewhere else?” I ask her gently, trying not to spook her as I once again pick up the towel and clean the blood from her skin that seeped through her tank top.
I try not to stare at her chest, but it’s fucking hard when the only thing separating my mouth from them is a scrap of pink lace.
I look up when I realize she hasn’t answered me. “You’re hurt somewhere else, aren’t you? Where?”
She hesitates a moment before moving her hand around to her back. I move around her and curse when I see the large bruise just above her hip.
“Did I do this?” I gently touch my fingers to it, making her shiver, before I move back in front of her. I hold her chin with my thumb and forefinger and stare into her pretty, dark eyes. “Did I do that to you?”
She shakes her head, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I finish cleaning her up before tossing the towel in the trash too. “How the hell did you even get in this state?”
