“Only because of you.”
Bad simply shrugged, like beating men’s faces to a pulp wasn’t horrible. He adjusted his hat atop his head, gripped my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly before letting go of me… And then, without another word, he was gone.
I dropped my gaze once more, my chin all but resting against my chest. The shame still hung around me like a shroud that wouldn’t come off.
Cheyenne’s familiar citrusy scent filled my nose as she came to stand before me. “Hey…hey look at me, Mav.”
I couldn’t. Couldn’t bear to see what emotions lurked in the turquoise pools of her eyes.
“Maverick… Hey…” Her warm fingers hooked under my chinand forced me to meet her stare. There was no fear there, worry still shone, but resolve swam in there as well. And love. So much love.
I’d thought I felt inadequate with Bad. But I’d never felt more inadequate, more undeserving until now.
Cheyenne let out a choked sound, tears brewing in her eyes. She moved her fingers from under my chin to my cheek, wiping at the moisture there. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. She dropped her hand, making sure to take mine in her own, and led me through the house to the bathroom. In silence, she turned on the tub before coming to stand before me.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
It was so reminiscent of the night of the fire it gave me pause. How could she be so calm? She’d been assaulted tonight. Threatened. Had watched me beat up her ex.
Then she started to sing…and it broke everything in me.
I bit back tears as she slowly undressed me and then herself, before situating us in the tub. She grabbed a washcloth and soap, singing softly the whole time, and proceeded to gently clean the blood from my hands and caked under my fingernails. She took her time, easing her strokes around my torn open and bruising knuckles.
As the song ended, dying on her lips, she finally glanced up at me. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
She pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles—light as a feather. “For protectin’ me.” Taking my hand and placing it on her belly, she continued, “For protectin’ her.”
That damn near broke me.
How could she not see how problematic this was? I’d gone too far. I’d lost control.
“Don’t,” I ground out through clenched teeth, pulling my hand away. “Don’t paint me as the hero.”
Her brows knit together, her head tilting to the side in question. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“You and Bad, you’re just tryin’ to make me feel better ‘bout what I’ve done. I beat a man senseless…I could—no, should have to deal with serious repercussions, and y’all are actin’ like it’s no big deal.”
“Maverick, had you not stepped in, hewouldhave hit me. He deserved everything you gave him.”
I shook my head, burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t breathe, the tightness in my chest painful and heavy. Her hands on mine were soft, gentle as she peeled them away, forcing me to meet her stare once more.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What’s really goin’ on?”
My eyelids fluttered closed, a deep, painful breath whooshing from my lungs. Just the thought of admitting this to myself hurt…but trying to say it out loud. I couldn’t look at her as I spoke, my head falling back as I struggled to finally say, “At some point…when I was hittin’ Nate…I wasn’t hittin’ him no more. I—” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “It was my dad.”
Silence. So loud it was deafening.
I went on, still not looking at her, just to fill the quiet. “I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to be everythin’ he wasn’t. Calm, where he was angry. Quiet, instead of loud. Patient when he was hasty… But, all that…everythin’ I worked so hard for went down the drain in a minute. I became no better than him. All of the hurt and pain and anger I’ve kept inside all this time rose up…and just like that, I was out of control. All I could see was red. All I could hear was the sound of my blood boilin’. All I wanted… Well, I wanted to kill him.”
The sound of the water’s movement drew my attention; Cheyenne poised herself before me, cupping my face in her hands. “I’m so sorry…but it’s okay.”
A spark of anger blossomed in my chest. “Damn it, Chey…it ain’t okay! What I did ain’t okay!” I rose from the tub, sending water sloshing over the sides as I got out. “What if I—” I fisted a hand and pressed it to my mouth, biting at the knuckle. Pain surged from the bruises but it was a pain I welcomed. A pain I deserved.
“What if you what, Maverick?” There was a steely edge to her voice. Not anger… I couldn't quite tell what it was.
I shook my head once, tears swimming in my eyes. “What if I hurt you or the baby?” I choked out, the words broken, weak.
