“Hey, man. I said I got this,” the guy tells me. “We’re good.”
Is he fucking kidding me right now? “No, you’re not good. She’s having a panic attack, and you’re in my way.”
His expression darkens. “Look, I don’t know who you?—”
I ignore him, taking another step closer to her. “Cecilia. Look at me.”
Nothing.
“Bro, seriously. Who the hell are you?”
I do not have time for this shit. “Who the fuck are you, man? And why the fuck are you touching her?”
He startles, taken aback by the fury in my voice, but seems to recover when he steps forward, getting in my face. “I’m Wyatt, her date. Who the fuck are you?”
My vision goes red hearing him refer to himself as her date. But I don’t have time for this asshole’s bullshit.
My gaze snaps to Felix, my jaw tight with anger. “Her date?” I seethe, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
He nods. “Dumbass stopped here on his way to take her home.”
My head falls back and for a second, I stare up at the ceiling. Did I do some fucked up shit in a past life or something to make me deserving of this? Fucking hell. Can’t a guy get a break?
“Look, I didn’t know,” the guy starts to explain.
Oh, and now he does?
Good for him.
“You got this?” I ask Felix, indicating the douchebag beside me.
“Yeah,” Felix says, his voice laced with irritation. “I got it.”
With that settled, I shove the guy out of my way and into Felix’s grip. He wraps his arms around the guy—Wyatt or whatever the fuck his name is—trapping his arms at his sides, while I turn back to Cecilia.
As long as we’re here, in this fucking house, she won’t be able to pull out of this.
Getting her out of here needs to be objective number one. We can talk and sort everything else out after that.
Dipping low, I wrap my arms around her knees and hoist her over my shoulder. She doesn’t even object to the contact, just exhales a shaky breath.
“What the hell!” Wyatt shouts at Felix. “Dude, let go.” Then he turns to me. “Where the hell are you taking her?”
“Chill the fuck out,” Felix snaps. “And you—” He glares daggers at the fucker’s friend. “Don’t even think about it. Let my boy handle this.”
“You can’t just?—”
I don’t stick around long enough for Wyatt to finish his sentence.
I carry Cecilia outside, ignoring the weight of Holt’s gaze on my back as I head straight for my bike. The evening breeze whips around us and sends goosebumps along my skin. Cecilia’s got to be cold.
Setting her on her feet, I cup her face in my hands and force her dark brown gaze up to mine.
“Cecilia?” Tears well up in her eyes. I thumb the moisture away, stroking her cheeks. “I’ve got you,” I tell her. “I’ve got you.” Pulling her into my embrace, I give her what little comfort I can before reminding myself that we need to get out of here.
Tugging my helmet onto her head, I buckle the chin strap and help her onto the back of my bike. She’s still a little out of it, but she’s responding to my directions, even if it isn’t with words.
“Don’t let go,” I tell her as I pull her arms snugly around my waist. Her tiny hands curl into the material of my shirt, and I kick myself for not remembering to grab my coat on my way out. She’s going to freeze to death on the ride home. In that dress—shit.
