Because that night when Cressida left me at my childhood home, Maya had to be admitted to the hospital for her heart. It’s always been bad, and at one stage, we assumed she was getting better, but she has always had heart problems, plus mental health issues. Thankfully, she’s doing better now, but it’s really fucking hard to try to walk away from someone who only has you. But she’s losing her fucking mind, and I don’t want Cressida to be caught up in all that bullshit.
Hands wrap around my upper arms and lift me from where I’m sprawled on the ground. It’s clear I’ve lost the fight, which isn’t surprising. It’s the first fight I’ve lost in a very long time, and it doesn’t feel good.
My vision is blurry, but my gaze seeks her out, only to find her behind me with a worried expression on her face. I feel the stares of the people in the crowd, and I know she can too. I ask her with nothing more than a look to come with me to the lockerroom, and she thankfully understands, indicating that she’ll follow.
We push past the crowd and straight into the locker room. When the door is shut, separating us from the noise in the main room, I slump onto the bench in front of my locker. My head still feels light and fuzzy.
She remains by the door, not coming too close to me.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Ignoring my question, she asks one of her own, “Why did you let him win?”
Fuck, even with my vision fucked up like it is, I can still see she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.
Dropping my head between my knees, I take a few deep breaths. My ribs are sore, possibly bruised or broken. My head is pounding from the beating I let him give me, but it made me feel things. That’s why I let him do it.
“You should see a doctor,” she says.
“I know what he’ll say.” I sit up.
“Fine, if you won’t see a doctor, then I’ll look after you. Where are your keys?”
“You can’t drive,” I remind her.
“Of course I can. I just don’t like driving in the city.” She digs into my bag and pulls out my keys. “Get up. We need to get ice on your injuries.”
“Why are you here?” I ask again. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I hate your sister.”
She takes my bag and lifts it over her shoulder.
“I don’t need your help,” I mumble.
“You do. Do you want the pain? Do you need more of it? I can stab you again if that’s what you’re after,” she says, and a small smile plays on my lips, which hurts because I was punched in the mouth.
“No. I know you have marvelous stabbing abilities, but I would rather not be on the receiving end of that again.”
She shrugs and starts for the back door when all of a sudden, the other door opens, and Arlo and Reon walk in. Of course, tonight is the night both of them decide to come. They immediately notice Cressida.
Arlo waggles his brows before he turns to me. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” Arlo says. “With the reporter.”
Reon eyes Cressida with a bit of contempt, and I know he’s judging her. “You’re seeing a reporter?” Reon asks.
“No,” Cressida answers. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I used to be a journalist. Get it right!” She rolls her eyes, then adds, “Good to see you both again.”
To me, she says, “I’ll wait for you in your car.” And then she leaves.
The last time she saw Arlo was at the awards gala I took her to. Before that, she saw both of them at a party she crashed to get more information on me for her story. Neither of them nor their partners gave her anything, but I have to give her credit where credit is due because she tried hard.
“You took a beating,” Arlo notes.
“Maya is out of the hospital,” Reon says.
“I did. And, yes, I know.” I sigh. “Why are you here?”
“We were concerned. You missed the last party, and you haven’t been active recently. You are our Lord, or did you forget that?” Arlo explains.
