“I’m sure I should be concerned you know where I live.”
“You aren’t?”
She shakes her head, the chilly breeze teasing the blonde strands of her hair, “No. I’m kind of relieved.”
“And why’s that, trouble?” I ask, watching as she begins to head for the door to her apartment building.
She pauses and glances back to me, “Because it means you’ve thought about me, as much as I’ve thought about you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ican still feel my body trembling, the adrenaline from the attack wearing off. Part of me believes I’m hallucinating, like Kolten can’t really be here.
He didn’t beat Patrick half to death on the sidewalk and he didn’t rescue me.
Part of me believes I’m still there, on that sidewalk.
The door clicks closed, and Ifeelhis presence. Feel him in every aspect of my being. There were things I probably needed to do, call the cops, call an ambulance? Wait, Kolt said he was handling that, but I should probably still call the cops, right?
But then wouldn’t that put Kolt at risk?
“What are you thinking?” His deep rumble of a voice vibrates through me, and a shiver runs down my spine. My head is a jumbled mess of emotion, I wanted to cry, be angry, cry somemore and soak in the tub. I wanted to scream at him and hug him all in the same second.
I wanted to feel something other than this crushing numbness that was seizing me from my chest and spreading out.
Patrick tried to rape me. And even though I say the sentence repeatedly inside my head, replay it over and over like some sick tape stuck on repeat, I can’t seem to attach myself to it. Like it wasn’t really me being crushed under his weight, it wasn’t my skin being scratched up by the grit and dirt and rocks on the ground.
“You’re bleeding,” Kolt’s in front of me in a flash, I hadn’t even heard him or seen him move but he’s in front of me, on his knees, hands gently tugging at the bottom of my pants, trying to get the leg up to where blood is seeping through my jeans.
I didn’t feel it, the blood or the pain.
“Your hair is longer,” I mumble, unable to stop my hand as I reach forward and let the tips of my fingers run through the thick brown mane of hair. It was so much longer than when I last saw him, he’s grown out the shortened sides and it now sits about halfway down his neck, the ends curling up slightly.
“I can’t get to your knee, trouble,” he says, looking up at me from beneath his lashes.
The year apart has made me forget just how handsome he is, with his night dark eyes and straight, strong nose. His stubble is thicker too, groomed and trimmed and I had to wonder if it would feel different to be kissed by him now. A silver hoop still dangles from his ear, and I drop my eyes to the hands still tugging at my pant leg to see several rings adorning his fingers, thick bands that just look good on his long fingers.
“Your leg,” he urges.
“Right,” I drop my hands, “Give me a second.”
I turn to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, breathing in slow and steady to try and keep calm as I strip out of my ruined clothes. Dirt cakes to the denim but I get them off, along with my sweater and grab my robe to cover myself.
My knee is an absolute mess. The skin torn and seeping blood that runs down my shin like a crimson river. Okay and now it hurts. It was just fine until I saw the state of it.
There’s a huge chunk taken out of my knee and then grazed skin all around it and I must’ve landed on a rock or something in the fight with Patrick. My palms are grazed and there’s sore patches on my back too.
Fuck.
That adrenaline was doing great at masking all this shit.
I grab a wad of tissue to mop up some of the blood and then hobble out of the bathroom with it pressed to my knee. I didn’t want to get blood all over my floor and my first aid kit was in the kitchen!
“Ness,” Kolt’s voice makes me pause. “Sit.” He orders when I turn to look at him.
I almost drop right there and then, right onto my ass in the middle of my floor but I’m grateful my brain is able to keep up, because he’s pointing to the chair he’s pulled out from my tiny dining table.
“I can…”
