Page 6 of Lace 'em Up

There are fucking bootprints on her ribs.

Boot. Prints.

Fucking plural.

The abrasion on her cheek is infuriating. The bruise on her jaw rage-spiraling.

The goddamned imprint of a man’s hand on her throat had my control splintering to mere threads when I first saw her on the side of the road.

But…this?

I carefully climb off the bed, back away from her. Putting some distance between us because fury is coursing through my veins, splintering through my nerves. I whirl around and slam my fist into the wall, denting the Sheetrock and sending up a little puff of dust.

Pain bursts up my arm, but it’s not enough to cool my anger.

Not enough to make up for the pain this woman went through.

I rear back, start to allow it to fly forward again, wanting the hurt, wanting?—

“No,” she says, snagging my wrist, halting me. “Don’t,” she whispers.

I could break her hold in a second.

But…I don’t.

Not when there are bruises on her body and tear tracks on her cheeks and she’s holding her dress up around her middle.

She’s fucking beautiful.

And broken.

I exhale quietly, temper my anger, then gently order, “Back in bed.”

She holds my gaze, eyes firm. “No more punching things,” she whispers. A breath. “You need your hands to play hockey.”

This is not a lie.

So, I nod—letting her know I hear her—before I turn her back toward my bed, guide her to sit down on the side of it. “Off those feet,” I order. “I’ll get you some dry clothes to change into.”

Her chin juts down. “Thanks.”

But she sounds like she’s cutting glass, and though it probably shouldn’t—considering the circumstances—it makes me smile.

This is the Rory I know.

The one who calls me on my shit and is prickly when I’m nearby and…frankly, it’s probably the only thing that can settle me at this moment.

Rory’s nice…to everyone but me.

Rory loves animals. Rory loves her friends. Rory sees right through the smiling, joking, casual demeanor I put up between me and the rest of the world.

Which means it’s likely she sees the man I am deep inside.

(A scary proposition).

But also…no wonder she’s prickly.

Because that shit is scary.

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