“Nothing,” I blurted, carefully balancing the fork on the edge of my plate so I could grab the glass of water. Before I could lean over, Hayes’ arm filled my view, his long fingers wrapping around the glass. He handed it to me silently and then returned to his meal.
Halfway through, he dropped a slice of bread onto my plate. “Eat that too,” he ordered, taking a drink of water.
“Oh, I don’t—” My mouth snapped shut as he twisted his neck, his eyes flashing with anger. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll eat it.”
A few moments later, I was chewing a piece of the amazing garlic bread, and he murmured, “Thank you.”
Finally, the meal was done, and before I could un-tuck my legs, my empty plate was swept up. I watched his back as he went into the kitchen and washed off the plates. Our gazes locked as he came back into the living room. I expected him to take a seat. Instead, he moved to the door, putting his back against it, folding his arms over his chest.
“Now, you can tell me about the fucker who did that to your face.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hayes
“Why are you over there?” she asked, her voice small.
It was painful to even look at her, but I couldn’t tell her that. She would never know how much it burned me to see the marks of another person’s violence on her. This entire day had been a nightmare, carefully crafted from the seventh circle of hell. It was the plane crash all over again, and like that dreadful day, there was nothing I could do to erase the bruises, take away the pain, rip the memory from our minds.
Concerning the past, I was utterly helpless.
Concerning her future, I wasn’t. Focusing on that was the only reason I hadn’t completely lost my shit. My grip on reality was so tight that my palms were bleeding, and they were going to stain her—mark her in a way I never wanted her to be.
“Margo,” I urged, my voice cold.
She was curled up on her side of the couch, her gorgeous hair piled high on her head, green eyes shining with worry. “Don’t you want to sit down?”
“No.”
“Hayes—”
“Who did that to your face?” I asked, ignoring her. I couldn’t be close to her. Not when she told me this.
She dropped her head, curling her fingers together in her lap, eyes tracking every movement. “It’s complicated.”
My voice hardened. “There is nothing complicated about abuse.” Her head snapped up. “It’s black and white,” I continued. “What was done to you was wrong, and you have every right to press charges. However, seeing as how you’re with me and under the protection of Red Snake, you pressing charging would make things complicated.” I practically spat out the last word.
“I’m with you?” she breathed, her chest moving with rapid breaths.
“Yes.”
“Hayes—”
“I don’t have time to argue with you, Temper. Not about this.”
She reached behind her, bringing her throw pillow to her front, wrapping her arms around it. After a minute of stretched silence, she whispered, “You can’t just claim me. I’m not yours, Hayes.”
My jaw tightened, but I didn’t allow the pain of her words to spread. I locked it down tight, throwing it into a lockbox in my brain.
I’m not yours, Hayes.
The box landed harshly in the back corner of my mind, where my mistakes lived, and I shut the door, focusing on what I could control.
“What happens behind closed doors is our business.” I paused, hearing the pain banging on the door I’d just locked in my head. I closed my eyes for three seconds. Before I could stop it, a string of dangerous words left my lips, laced with a microscopic morsel of hope. “If, behind closed doors, that’s what you want, then fine. I’ll learn to deal with the sting of losing you, but to the outside world, until you’re no longer in danger, you are mine. Mine to protect, to take care of.”
When I lifted my head again, I saw a small glimmer of pain in her eyes just before she lifted her chin. “So you want to lie?”
Lie.