It’s swollen to the point I can’t even make a fist, covered in cuts and bruises.
“Jesus, Colt,” she whispers at my silence. “It looks broken. You should see the doctor.”
“I’m fine.” I brush off her concern. How can she even be worried about me? It’s just a hand. It’ll heal.
“What did you do?” she goes on.
“I did it when I hit Mike,” I lie. The way her brows pull down, I know she’s having a hard time believing it. I’m not going to tell her I watched the video and went ballistic in the living room. She hasn’t even mentioned it to me that Nate was recording them. She doesn’t want me to know a video of that exists. I don’t blame her. “Come on. You need to eat breakfast and take your pain pills.”
“I don’t need them.” She drops her eyes to the floor, and I step into her.
“You need to take them.” I know her. If she doesn’t take the pills and relax, she’ll do too much. Hurt herself even more. Thankfully, Gavin said nothing was broken, but that doesn’t mean she’s not in pain right now. Especially after what I did to her last night when we got back from the Cathedral.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll take them when you see the doctor about your hand.”
“Doesn’t work that way, princess.”
We make our way downstairs to the kitchen, and all the guys are already at the table. Jenks leans under it and kicks the chair out across from him for her to sit on.
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” Finn laughs.
“I have my moments.” He shrugs.
“I’m going to go use the restroom,” Raylee announces and walks down the hall.
I almost ask if she needs me to go with her but decide against it. She doesn’t like to be coddled. After the way she started a fight with me last night, I know she already thinks I’m treating her differently after what happened. And now that I’ve seen the video, I’m not sure that I can treat her any other way. I declared my love for her. She’s my responsibility. I have to protect her.
She returns, sitting down in the seat next to me. I reach over, gripping one of the legs with my good hand and pull her closer to my side. Reaching forward, I grab the cereal and milk that the guys have out and start to pour her a bowl.
“What happened in the living room?” she asks.
“Alex,” Finn answers quickly before anyone else can rat me out. “He got mad at his ex.”
“That’s why she’s an ex.” Alex laughs, playing along. “Always pissing me off.”
Raylee nods once. “Yeah, I was going to call Raven yesterday before …” Nate kidnapped and raped her. “To check in. I’m worried about her.”
Alex sits up straighter, placing his forearms on the table. “Worried how?”
She shrugs. “Could be nothing, but Rick gave me the creeps. Tatum too.”
“Who the fuck is Rick?” Alex snaps.
“Uh…” She nibbles nervously on her busted bottom lip. “He was at Mitch’s party with her…”
“Goddammit,” he growls, snatching his phone off the table and storming out of the kitchen.
“How’s she doing?” Finn asks, getting my attention.
I sigh. How do I respond to that? She’s the same but different. She’s been starting fights with me over the past week. Often. I see them coming a mile away. She starts to shut down before my eyes. Then the next thing I know, she’s yelling at me, wanting a fight. Physically pushing me to the point I have to remind her whose name is carved into her ass.
She wants our sex rough. More than it ever has been, which is hard, considering she’s still healing. Every time, she cries during, sobs afterward, and then she’s better. It’s almost as if the sex is therapeutic for her. Her way of coping. I hate it, but I’d do anything for her. We fucked three times just yesterday alone.
“Good,” I finally say.
“It’ll get better.” He slaps my back as if he doesn’t believe my answer.
I don’t pretend to understand what she went through but watching the video gave me a better idea as to why she wanted me to fuck her. Why she needed me to remind her she belonged to me. Nate took something from her that she’s trying to get back. Raylee is stubborn, and she’s going to do whatever has to be done to prove to herself that she’s still the same Raylee. Even if that means pushing herself past her own limits.
