The alarm was a roar in my ears. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to imagine Veronica sitting where I’d sat, her mouth on Lucas. I didn’t want to think about the things he’d said to me. I didn’t want to feel the disapproval and uncertainty ofeveryone’s gazes on me as they ran through the broken glass and I had only just managed to shuffle inside.
“We gotta bail!” Nate sprinted for the door with Danielle and Veronica right behind him. Alex swung the wrench at the El Camino again as Matthew jabbed a razorblade into the tires.
“Hurry the fuck up, Jess! I thought you were down!”
And what if I wasn’t? What then? Rejection. Ostracization. I didn’t even know who shouted it, but I guess it didn’t matter. It could have been shouted by the universe itself.
All the fingers I’d ever pointed, all the cruel things I’d ever said, could so easily be turned on me. And they would be.
But this was wrong on so many levels, I never should have come here. My heart hammered, panic making me weak. I sucked in my breath and braced myself to turn and face them, to tell them I was leaving this shitshow. But as I turned, I realized they were gone. All of them. The garage was empty and the roar of the truck’s engine told me they’d abandoned me here.
They’d left me behind and the barking dogs were coming closer.
14
Lucas
“Would you stop squirming? Do I need to tie you down?”
I snorted at Manson’s suggestion, forcing myself to sit still on the edge of his tub. My adrenaline from the fight had calmed, and I finally felt like I could get some sleep. But Manson wouldn’t stop fussing over my busted lip and swelling nose.
It really wasn’t a big deal. I doubted my nose was broken, and if it was? It wouldn’t be the first time.
But it was a big deal to Manson and this was his effort at apologizing without saying it. If he apologized out loud, I’d reject it because he had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t his damn responsibility to protect me.
“You better not feel guilty,” I said, my movement making him fix me with another glare before he went back to cleaning up my lip. It needed stitches, but I couldn’t be bothered with all that. Wounds healed. Maybe they’d scar and be ugly in the end, but I didn’t care. “Nothing that happened tonight was your fault, so don’t dwell on it.”
His eyes narrowed even more. “Yeah, except I had a feeling shit would go south. I should’ve —”
I grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand down from my face. “Stop. Fucking stop beating yourself up about it. Gettingpunched in the face is nothing new for me. In the grand scheme of things, this was a damn good evening.”
He didn’t look convinced. “How do you figure?”
“No one got shot,” I said. “No one got stabbed. I’m not in the hospital.” I shrugged. “Sure sounds like a successful night to me.”
He shook his head, yanking his wrist out of my hold. Jojo and Haribo were barking downstairs, probably needing to go outside again. Manson started dabbing something that smelled nasty on my face, and I tried my best to sit still for him.
“You’ve still got blood on your teeth,” he said.
“You like it. Looks sexy, right?”
That finally got a little grin out of him. Maybe I wasn’t ready for sleep yet. Maybe I needed to let off a little pent-up energy first, especially considering things had gotten hot and heavy with Jess before I abruptly cut her off.
“You better be careful looking at me like that,” Manson said. He had one hand on the side of my jaw to keep my head steady, and his hold grew a little tighter. “Unless one punch in the face wasn’t enough pain for you.”
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. That was part of why he and I got along so well, part of why we meshed both at work and in the bedroom. Exploring the edges of what I was capable of enduring was something I trusted him with, but only him.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, glancing down at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. He was shirtless, his hair damp from a shower. He looked so fucking good, I wanted to sink my teeth into his skin, bite until he bled and let him hurt me in return. I’d let him overtake me because it was the only way I could ever let go,trulylet go. As terrifying as it was to do that, it was an outlet I desperately needed.
Damn, those dogs were getting loud. Too loud.
Manson and I both paused. There was a strange sound I couldfaintly hear over the music playing in his bedroom, a repetitive screeching. We looked at each other, his frown deepening as he said, “Is that—”
Before he could get his thought out, Vincent burst into his bedroom, tugging a shirt over his head to hide the pistol tucked into his jeans.
“Garage,” was all he needed to say before he sprinted down the hall and we both scrambled to our feet.
It was our alarm. Someone was in the garage.