I take her face in my hands. “Does this mean you’re going to think about what I said earlier? Really consider it?”
She searches my eyes. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
“Then, that’s good enough for now.”
It has to be because losing this girl isn't a choice I'm willing to live with.
We dry off and quickly realize we don’t have any clean clothes in here. I don’t really have a choice, so I pull my soiled pants and shirt back on. I’m pretty sure I broke that fucker’s nose, and unfortunately for my favorite jeans, broken noses tend to bleed a lot. Jazz’s bedroom is right next door, so we make a plan to dash over there as quickly as possible so she can get to her closet. I freeze when I step out of the ensuite and find Bentley sitting on the edge of the guest bed.
I stop so suddenly, Jazz smacks into me from behind. “Ow! My nose. Why the hell did you stop?”
Hyperaware Jazz is only dressed in a towel, I try shielding her body, but she’s so tiny, she squirms around me, startling when she sees Bentley.
“Bentley!” Jazz clutches the towel to her chest. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the, uh, problem with Lawson?”
Bentley’s eyes darken as he gets a good look at her, before lifting the paper towel he’s holding against his head. Jazz winces when he reveals a nasty gash over his eyebrow.
“Reed and Ainsley took over. I didn’t think it was too bad at first, but the bleeding won’t stop. Fucker clocked me with a bottle before we took him down. I was hoping you had a butterfly stitch or something. Peyton disappeared after her little hissy fit, so I checked your room, but it was empty." He rolls his eyes. "Obviously. Anyway, as I was heading back downstairs, I thought I heard someone talking in here. I knocked, but no one answered, so I tried the handle, and the door swung open."
My eyes narrow. “The door was locked.”
Ben
tley's brows draw together. "Uh, no, it wasn't, dude."
“Yes, it was. I locked it myself.”
“Apparently not as well as you thought,” he says defensively.
Jazz looks at me in confusion—because we both know damn well the door was locked—before addressing Bentley. "I think I saw one in the first aid kit in the bathroom. Let me, uh, put some clean clothes on, and I'll help you out."
“Thanks, Jazzy.”
I wait for her to leave the room before laying into him. “What the hell, man? Were you fucking watching us?”
The bathroom door wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either, because I did lock the bedroom door, despite Bentley’s denial.
Bent shrugs. “What if I was?”
“That’s fucked up, dude.” My fists clench at my sides.
He scoffs. “Oh, screw you, Davenport. Whatever happened to, ‘I don’t care who she fucks, Bent. She’s just a means to an end’? Also, I’ve seen you screwing some chick before, and vice versa. In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve fucked the same girl at the same time, more than once.”
I shake my head. “Things are different now.”
“Why’s that?” His jaw clenches.
“Because she almost died!” I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she would’ve fucking died, man.”
Bentley takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t watching you. I literally just got here as the shower was cutting off. I heard you talking about getting dressed or something, so I figured I’d wait it out.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as we stare each other down. “She’s mine, Bent, so you need to back the fuck off.”
“She didn’t seem to think so earlier tonight,” he challenges. “If anyone has the right to be pissed, it’s me, because I’m fairly certain you just enjoyed the fruits of my labor, and this isn’t the first time that’s happened.”
I take a step toward him. “Don’t do this, Bentley. I’m trying to be patient with you, and give you some leeway because I know everything that’s happened recently is reminding you of Carissa, but—”
Bentley shoots up from the bed and shoves me back a step. “Fuck you! Don’t bring her into this. She has nothing to do with this!”