Page 65 of Hold Me Until Morning

So, I sent her a half encouraging half regretful smile as I released her and stepped back.

A piece of myself felt like it was getting hacked off when I did.

I guessed that was always what caring about someone had been about.

Sacrificing.

Putting their needs before your own.

It wasn’t always intuition for me, only showing its face for those who were closest to me, but I think I got it right then.

The truth that this girl could come to mean something if I let her.

She had then, hadn’t she? But I’d tucked the memories of her right into my album of mishaps. My corruption and delinquency. Did my best to forget her when she had touched my spirit in a way no one ever had before and no one had since.

Funny when our interactions had been…innocent.

All except for that energy that had thrummed between us. A connection that had forever strained taut even though I’d believed I’d snipped it.

I started to turn on my heel to give her some peace, only Hailey reached out and wrapped one of those sweet hands around my wrist to draw me back.

Fire raked like claws down my back.

“Wait,” she said, her voice barely breaking above the music that blared from the speakers.

Dickface stepped in front of me, anyway, trying to block me out. It wasn’t until then that I noticed he was sloppy drunk, the way he pushed in and wrapped an arm around her waist and started to rock her back and forth, attempting to guide her deeper into the crowd.

“I don’t feel like dancing.”

The prick turned her so she lost hold of my wrist.

“Sure you do, baby,” I heard him say.

Regret clapped me across the face. I never should have stepped away from her.

In a heartbeat, I was right behind him. My hand clamped down on his shoulder because he wasn’t going to get away with this bullshit.

I leaned in real close to make sure he got the message. “The lady said she doesn’t want to dance. Respect that, yeah?”

“Screw off, asshole,” he slurred through a laugh like he wasn’t about to get torn to shreds, turning back to Hailey whose expression had tinted with disgust.

Motherfucker.

Rage billowed, and I gritted, “I’d suggest you step away from her before you don’t have the capacity to do so.”

I’d hoped to keep my voice even.

Instead, the words whipped out like bullets. Cracks of fucking lightning that reverberated through the bar and would send a wise man running.

This bastard?

He wasn’t wise in the least.

Because he turned and threw a fist.

It came at me from out of nowhere, catching me so off guard that he clocked me in the mouth.

That wasn’t what bothered me, though. That tiny sting that was brought on by a split lip.

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