My knuckles were an angry red and would definitely bruise. I’d wiped off the blood, but there were a few split knuckles to ice later.
Probably. But Jada first.
“Jada? Are you in there?” I pressed my forehead against her door. Even if Kari hadn’t told me she was in there, I swear I would have known. I was drawn to that room, like there was a cord attached to me and something on the other side. It was insane, and I would have laughed my ass off if I had heard someone else say that. But it was true in this new strange world I was living in.
Please don’t let me have completely fucked this up.
I waited a few seconds before cracking the door open.
My heart paused in my chest as my eyes found her. She lay in her bed, her brown hair splashed across her white pillow. Her face was calm, unmarred, and just so damn beautiful.
A peace settled over me as I watched her, a feeling I didn’t have very often. The only peace I was ever able to grasp was from avoiding shit I didn’t want to think about. I had never known peace like she had at that moment, and I wished she always had it. Not like the night before when her face had been so twisted in anger with me.
For the first time in a long-ass time, I was embarrassed.
I quietly made it over to the bed and knelt beside the mattress. I pulled the comforter down slightly, and the purple marks on her upper arm jumped out at me. They were obviously finger marks, narrow prints indicating they’d been wrapped around her arm.
I felt the incredible urge to beat the shit out of Simon again.
Jada stirred in her sleep, and I placed the comforter back over her, tucking it lightly around her small body. She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes slowly.
I rocked back on my heels, giving her space.
This will go one way or the other …
Once she focused on me, she scrambled to sit upright. “Cane! What are you doing here?” Her voice was squeaky, verging on panic.
“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down.” I smiled softly at her. “I came to make sure you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
I shot her a knowing look. “I know what happened, Jada.”
She swallowed hard, pulling the comforter up and around her,creating a barrier between us. “Cane, look, it’s really none of your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
She sat with her mouth open, like she didn’t understand anything I just said.
How is this not crystal clear to her?
“How is this any business of yours?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
I shrugged, the adrenaline starting to wear off. I scrubbed my hands over my face, exhaling a breath I had been holding for a long time.
“Cane? What’s on your hand?” Jada leaned up and took my hand, turning it over. “Is this blood?”
I nodded hesitantly, closing my eyes and enjoying feeling her skin on my skin. Being with her, touching her, feeling her—even if it was only our hands—made me feel differently than I ever had. It was like a part of me instantly quieted. A piece of me found the link it was looking for.
It was scary and stupid and amazing.
Her eyes were wide as she looked at me in disbelief. “Whose blood is it?”
“It’s Simon’s.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you think?”
