AVA
My knees crack against splintered boards as I lift Scott’s lifeless head from the floor. He’s dead weight in my lap, so heavy my bones grind into the hardwood below, but I won’t let go. Cradling his face with trembling fingers, I smooth his damp hair back from his forehead.
I know I should be more concerned with the man standing above us, quiet except for his harsh breaths as he takes in my frantic movements. He hasn’t said another word, hasn’t made a move to harm me. I watch out of the corner of my eye, but I can’t tear my entire focus away from Scott.
“Scott. Come on. Please wake up,” I whisper, my voice quivering against every syllable.
His breath stutters, lips twitching. A low, guttural sound rattles from his chest and pours out between cracked lips. My heart lurches, breaking open with hope so raw it hurts.
“Yes. That’s it. That’s good. I’m right here. Come back to me.” My words tumble out in a rush as I rock him against me, clutching him close. My hands wander, searching for moresigns of life. His chest rises, and his eyes move beneath their heavy lids. It’s something.
“Just open your eyes for me. That’s all you have to do. Be back here with me,” I murmur it again and again, pressing my cheek to his temple, holding him tighter, regardless of the awkward position and the smell leeching from his skin.
Another groan shakes out of him, and I almost sob with relief. He’s fighting for me. For us.
I’m so focused on him, so consumed by every shallow breath, that at first I miss it—a hollow groan of a floorboard bending beneath weight.
My head jerks up, finally taking in the threat before me.
I pinch my eyes shut, shaking my head. I know this face, but can’t place where I’ve seen it. Maybe he has one of those looks that melds into the crowds of people I pass every day. A pit of trepidation swells in my gut, my internal warning siren cranked to full blast.
He closes another foot between us. There are only so many in this cramped space. Scott’s body lies spread before us, a human barrier, and I feel guilty for using it. If anything, based on that kick, I should be the one protecting him from this lunatic.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer,” I shout with more gusto than I feel.
His head tilts, eyes scanning across my body. They heat, pinching with palpable anger when they stop at my hands in Scott’s hair, holding his head gently in my lap.
I can’t breathe under his focus, but I can’t look away.
Pale irises contrast against his blown pupils. His nostrils flare, like a raging bull. But it’s the deep auburn hair that peeks from under his low-pulled beanie that seizes a gasp from my lungs.
He marks the change immediately, a wicked grin stretching his thin lips.
The smell wafting off him hits me, burrowing into my throat until I gag around it. His intrigued smile doesn’t fall; it seems deliberate, a tell I can’t quite read.
He knows me.
And now, I know him.
The air itself thickens, weighted with the sound of my own pounding heart. How did he get here? How did he find me? Campus security said it was taken care of when I turned over the notes. The Dean promised he’d been removed after the incident last fall.
I shouldn’t have trusted the school to make sure this crazy stalking asshole was taken care of. I should have called the cops and filed a report—gotten a restraining order.
Another moan tears out of Scott, louder this time, and my eyes flicker between the two men.
My hands clutch at Scott’s jacket, hauling him further into my lap. Wrapping my arms around his bulky shoulders, I hold him to me like a shield. It’s not fair, but I know if he were conscious and knew the extent of the situation, he’d be doing the same.
My tears spill hot and fast into the thick material of his Carhartt jacket.
“Please, Scott. Open your eyes. I need you.”
Black boots inch closer, rounding Scott’s body, until they butt against my pants. Every instinct in me screams to move, to run, to fight, but my heart won’t let me release my grip. Not when Scott’s fighting for consciousness.
A raspy, half-breath, half-growl blows my free locks across my cheek as he settles into a crouch beside me. I keep my eyes averted, digging my fingers deeper into Scott’s jacket.
His intense gaze pierces my flesh. I know he wants my attention, but I’m afraid it will snap the scene into something I’m not ready to face.
“My pretty… little… thorn,” his gravelly voice whispers.
