She stands and reaches for me, helping me to my feet.
I want to wave her off, tell her that I’m fine, but the second I’m upright, my knees damn near give out. I decide against being a man right now and lean on her for support as she walks me to the sofa before unceremoniously dropping me onto it.
“The bruise from that, plus the one from my shiner are gonna make you look hella ugly. You know that, right?” she tells me with a smirk.
“Ugly? Nah, all the girls want a bad boy. I thought you knew that?”
She stares at me with a hard expression, a smile not even twitching at her lips.
“Don’t try to be cute. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Nor does acting like a fucking pussy, but I don’t seem to be putting a stop to that, either.”
“That pain you feel,” she says, although I’m not sure if she means the actual pain in my face or that in my heart. “It’s not even half of what you deserve.”
I rest my head back, closing my eyes once more and listening to her footsteps as she crosses my living room.
She clatters around in my kitchen before the scent of rich coffee beans fills the air around me, making my mouth water.
“Here.” Her voice startles me and I blink a couple of times to clear the fog from my head.
She stands before me with a glass of water and two white pills in her hand.
“Thank you,” I mutter, taking both. “Why are you helping me?” I ask when she sits right in front of me on the coffee table.
“I’m asking myself the same question. What I should have done when I found you passed out was finish the job like I promised I would if you hurt her.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She blows out a long breath, allowing me to see her internal debate about what to say next.
“Because I can see that you’re hurting just as much.”
I can’t help but laugh—it’s either that or cry, and that ain’t fucking happening.
“You can talk to me, you know. I won’t go running back to Seb or the guys and tell them that you actually have a heart under all the armour.”
“They already know. They’ve known me long enough to have seen deeper,” I admit.
“But you won’t talk to them because you’re guys. You just talk about fucking and killing people.”
“And girls don’t talk about fucking?” I ask, quirking a brow at her.
“Of course we do.” She smirks. “And she will tell me all your dirty secrets.”
“Great,” I mutter, sitting forward and dropping my head into my hands.
It hurts, but like she said, I deserve it, so I just man up and deal with it.
“I miss her,” I admit. “This place… it’s empty without her.”
“You really had nothing to do with the marriage?” Stella asks.
“Nope. Dad shocked me with that news a few weeks ago by handing me the signed certificates.”
“I can’t believe they’d sign you both over like that.”
“I think… I think Dad had good intentions despite how fucked up it is. Ram, though… I’m pretty sure he’d sell his wife if it got him further into Dad’s back pocket.”