His grunt told me he was dazed. Down for the count.
I spat the blood from my mouth and pushed off him.
The world around me started to register in a hazywhomp, whomp, whompwith my pulse.
Rose.
I turned to see her, standing on the porch with her hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart sank.
A bit unsteady on my feet, I crossed the dirt to the porch and wrapped my hands around her waist.
“I’m sorry. Baby, please, don’t cry,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
She fisted my shirt, a desperation in her eyes I’ll never forget. “Areyouokay? Phoenix, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I gripped the rail and hopped onto the porch. “Come here. I’m so sorry. Come here.”
She fell into my chest and sobbed. We rocked back and forth.
The sound of a car door opening pulled my attention. Josh’s face looked like a crushed tomato as he paused by the driver’s side.
“She’s mine, Davis,” I said. “She’s mine now.”
He scowled, looking at her in my arms, then dropped inside, slammed the door and disappeared down the hill.
At that moment I knew two things. One, I wouldn’t have to worry about Josh Davis again.
Two, Josh Davis definitely wasn’t Rose’s stalker.
36
ROSE
My stomach churned, that sick, weightless nausea that comes from watching someone you care about spill blood for you, get hurt for you. Get into a fight for you. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I clung to Phoenix, my fingers fisting his damp T-shirt, holding him close—not just to keep him safe, but to keep myself from crumbling. I focused on his heartbeat pounding against my ear, steady, strong, grounding me.
The sharp crunch of tires over gravel broke through the silence like the closing of a door. Josh was leaving. Defeated. Finished. And I knew, deep in my bones, I’d never see him again.
I lifted my cheek off Phoenix’s chest. He’d wiped most of the blood from his face, but spatters still covered his neck and shirt. I didn’t know if it was his, or Josh’s.
It was so much blood. Watching the two massive, jacked-up men fight had been horrifying. I’d never forget it, including?—
“She’s mine now.”
Phoenix told Josh I was his.
His.
It was too much. My head spun faster than my thoughts could keep up with. I couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. My stomach churned, my chest ached, my skin felt too tight for my body. The past forty-eight hours had finally broken through the dam, crashing over me in waves of grief, rage, fear, and exhaustion. Dead bodies. A stalker. My past dragged from its grave. And now this—this brutal, unhinged fight on my front porch like something out of a war zone. I couldn’t take one more thing. Not one.
I pushed away from Phoenix’s chest, every part of me shaking, my hands trembling with adrenaline and disbelief. Tears blurred my vision, but I saw him—saw the sweat, the dirt, the blood—hisblood—and it lit a fire inside me that I didn’t know was there.
“Whatthe helldo you think you were doing?” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Do you think this is some game?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, pained. He reached for me again, but I resisted. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You could’ve been hurt.” My voice dropped, sharp and trembling. “You could’ve beenkilled, Phoenix.”
