The bloke clearly has a death wish. The way Willow freezes tells me he's landed the hit he was aiming for. He's upset her.
That's a mistake he won't get to make twice.
I look at him, my expression smooth, almost detached. Nothing like the violence coiled tight beneath my skin.
My fist cuts through the space between us, landing square against his nose. There's a dull crunch beneath my knuckles, cartilage giving way, followed by a loud crack that turns heads. His body jolts backwards, momentum stealing his balance as blood immediately follows, and he folds with a broken shout, hands scrambling to his face.
I don't even wait because he has had enough of my time, and he doesn't get to look at her anymore. I’m through the crowd in seconds, not slowing as the cool night air envelops me and I reach my car.
“I can't believe you!” she shouts, thumping against my back. “Put me down. Now.”
“With pleasure.”
I open the passenger door and set her down roughly. She lands with a startled yelp, legs shifting on impact, and I have to clamp my jaw shut at the brief, distracting flash of her green thongs before I slam the door closed.
“Asshole,” she snaps, banging her palm against the window.
I slide into the driver's seat, deliberately ignoring the way she glares holes into the side of my face. I start the engine and pull away from the curb without another word.
“Where are we going?” she demands.
“To talk.”
She lets out a scoff, folding her arms. “I don't want to talk. Especially not with you.”
“Tough. We’re going somewhere that isn't the house, and we’re going to talk like adults—without anyone interrupting us.” I flick her a brief look before returning my eyes to the road. “And before you go off on one, you're going to listen to what I have to say. I’m done indulging the bratty act for tonight.”
Most of the time, that bratty edge of hers turns me on; that's why I call her princess, because it winds her up. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m pissed.
Mostly at myself.
I shouldn't have let jealousy get the better of me. Should've told her how stunning she looked the second she walked in, instead of letting it fester. I shouldn't have pulled back when she tried to kiss me, or acted like distance was the answer when all I did was hurt her.
I handled it wrong. Every part of it.
“You've said enough, Elijah.” Her voice doesn't shake, which somehow makes it worse. “I know exactly how you feel about me. And… I appreciate everything you've done. I do.”
My grip tightens on the wheel as she keeps going, each word cutting deeper than the last.
“I have a job now. I’ll save up and find somewhere small when I can. But I can't stay in that house anymore.”
I take the corner too fast, tyres screeching in protest as we spill onto the empty road. A wide, open field stretches beside us, nothing but darkness and wind. Then the rain hits out of nowhere, hammering the windscreen like it's trying to drown the silence between us.
The thought of her leaving sends a wave of panic through me.
“You honestly think I don't like you?”
She starts scratching at her wrist, nails scraping skin, the way she does when she's overwhelmed. I reach for her instinctively, closing my hand over hers. “Don't do that,” I murmur. “You'll hurt yourself.”
She jerks away as if my touch stings. Pulls her arms tight against her body, shutting me out. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
“Please don't touch me,” she says, barely louder than the rain.
The fire she had earlier is gone. No anger. No sarcasm.
There's no way I can let her fall back into the void shell of herself when she first moved in with us.
“Willow,” I say, forcing the words out past the knot in my throat. “I do like you.”
