“I hardly need looking after,” she laughs.
“The wounds might be superficial, Cherry but the trauma isn’t.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Have you turned people away?” I lift a brow.
“I can take care of myself. You’re the only one who hasn’t taken no for an answer.”
“That’s my modus operandi.”
Her lip tilts slightly, but it falls as fast as it came. She looks bone tired, especially after letting out all that emotion.
“Have you been sleeping?” She shrugs. “Nightmares?”
“What are you doing, Noah?”
“Being alone after something like that isn’t good for you.”
“You’re hardly the person I’d expect to help.”
I ignore that. “When did you last sleep, Cherry?”
“Last night,” she says but her eyes dip away, a sure sign she’s lying.
There is a lamp on a side table at the end of the couch which I flick on then get up and turn off the main lights. Taylor watches as I come back and adjust some of the cushions, then get back on the couch closer to her than before. She doesn’t know what to say when I put my arm up around behind her.
“Just don’t ask any fucking questions.”
Her brow lifts.
“You’re not sleeping because you’re alone.”
“You don’t need to stay,” she starts to protest.
“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but shut up, lie back and go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she argues.
“Then I’ll give up, but not until you try.”
“Who even are you right now?”
“Let’s say neither one of us are who we normally are right now and leave it at that.”
Taylor stares at me and I do my best not to get mad at the bruises. I’m not sure I hide it but Taylor doesn’t comment, instead she leans back against my arm and I shift to cup her shoulder, then pull the blanket up over her chest.
At first she sits still and I keep tilting my head to see what she’s doing. It takes about ten minutes for her eyes to start to droop. I’ve been around people who’ve taken a beating too many times not to know what they need. Eventually, she falls asleep and I stay still for a good half hour until I’m sure she is in a deep sleep.
The whole time I’m re-playing that video in my head, thinking about how I intend to kill that fucker.
It takes some finesse but I manage to get my phone out and send messages to Rebel, Blaze and Jesse. Giving my men orders and asking Jesse to take care of Oscar for me.
He’s still pissed at me, but where Oscar is concerned, he’ll do what needs to be done. Rebel replies saying he will make the arrangements for going to Cannon’s club tomorrow and let me know what time.
I’m not planning on leaving her alone. Whatever this pull she has on me I’ll question some other time. I’m pissed she’s told her friends she is okay when clearly she isn’t, and they haven’t pushed to stay with her.
It’s quiet here and after a while, my eyes start to drift too. It feels like it’s been an age since I’ve sat, not having to go anywhere, not having to deal with a multitude of problems, or people expecting something of me.
