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“Hey,” he greets me, tossing his keys on the kitchen island.

“Hey yourself,” I say as he comes into the room to join me.

He leans down and gently places a kiss on my swollen lip. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His expression is filled with concern and genuine care.

How is he not angry?

“Kind of rough,” I answer truthfully.

He chuckles, reaching his hand out to cup my cheek softly. I catch the scent of motor oil and chrome polish on his hands, and it smells divine. It’s about as manly as one can get. When he pulls away, I notice his hands are a little dirty. It’s such a turn on.

“Let me wash up, and we’ll get some dinner,” he says. I nod, and he walks toward the bedroom. “Then you can tell me all about last night.”

I hear the water turn on in his bathroom sink, and about five minutes later, he’s joining me on the couch, now in his own comfortable clothes. Damn, he looks really good in gray sweatpants.

“Want leftovers or pizza? Chinese? Hoagies? Or perhaps a sub?” His dimple craters his cheek as he smiles at me.

I snort, remembering one of the first times we hung out when he came back and we were laughing about the hoagie versus sub debate.

“Chinese or hoagies are fine,” I say, and he quickly places an order for the sandwiches on his phone.

“So.” Lev sits sideways, facing me with his leg bent in front of him and his arm on the back of the sofa. His fingers play with the longer lengths of my hair.

I turn to him, and my eyes track down his sexy forearm, his black ink intricately swirling and interwoven in various designs, not ending until his knuckles begin.

God, this man.

“What happened?” He interrupts my lusting gaze.

I breathe in a deep sigh and then tell him everything, starting with a conversation I had with my dad, which is what set me off.

“He finally called to ask how Thanksgiving was,” I tell Lev. “It’s not like he really cared, but I know he called just so he could say he did. You know, tell all his buddies that he checked in on me. I told him that I wanted to talk to him about buying the house from him and my mom, and things went south from there.” I squeeze my hand into a fist and release it, pulling it up to look at my swollen knuckles. “While I was talking to him, Ryan had messaged that a few of our friends were meeting at the Exchange and that he wanted me to come along. Boys’ night, he said. I was annoyed at my dad and wanted to see Ryan, so I went.”

I end the recap with a shrug. While I’m talking, Lev is looking at me so intently. His eyes carry nothing but love and concern. It sort of makes my heart hurt and my stomach twist.

I continue to tell him about the night and how we were having a great time, drinking, laughing, and just blowing off steam. “We were just chilling and fucking around, you know?”

He nods.

“This group of guys that we hadn’t seen around there before were sitting at a high-top, laughing, making snide comments and just being jerks. I guess they didn’t like my look or the fact that we were kind of being drunk and affectionate with one another, and they just had to say something.” I stop and swallow a drink of water, replaying the grotesque words that left their mouths. “That something was inexcusable, and I shoved one of the guys.” I puff out my chest and swipe my thumb down the side of my nose. “He was the biggest guy there,” I say.

Lev just shakes his head, and I continue.

“So the shoving led to a fight, and my guys went after his guys. It was broken up pretty quickly, and Garrett kicked them out but not before we got slightly roughed up.”

When I’m done sharing, we sit in silence for a few minutes. I reach my arm out and put it on Lev’s arm on the back of the sofa. His hand falls from my hair, and he pulls back to lace our fingers together right as the doorbell rings. I sigh in frustration that we have to break contact when he releases my hand and stands up. He gets the door, brings the food and drinks, and sits back down with plates of sandwiches—hoagies—and chips for us. It should be an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not.

After a bit, Lev swallows and looks at me. “Are you okay?”

I choke on my bite. I don’t understand why he’s not pissed about this. I got wasted and got in a fight, and Garrett had to call him at like three in the morning. Again. And he’s worried about me. He should be mad at me.

“Aside from the fact that my face hurts a lot and you had to come get me, I’m fine. I’m mad at my dad, but . . . I’m sorry you had to come and get me,” I apologize, glancing Lev’s way. “Again.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his sandwich down. “You needed me, and I was happy to be able to be there. I’m glad Garrett called me. I will always be there when you need me, Dare.”

I feel my eyes start to burn. Am I really going to tear up over this?

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But seriously”—Lev takes my hand in his—“you gotta stop these fights or Garrett’s going to have your head.” He lets go and gently pushes my head to the side.