Page 8 of Forever Golden

“Does it hurt much?”

She shrugs and meets my gaze. “Probably less than you think, seeing as how this isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this out of anger.”

That doesn’t surprise me, but whatdoescatch me off guard is when she manages to smile. Her eyes are glassy, though. Like she’s holding back unshed tears.

“I know you can stand on your own two feet, and I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but… maybe you should let me. Just this once, at least.”

She stares for a moment, maybe sensing all the unspoken things that just ran through my head—about loving her, wanting to be whatever she needs me to be.

Her hair shifts when she finally nods, giving in. “…Okay.”

It isn’t lost on me that she doesn’t let many people in, but somehow—even being the twisted fuck that I am—I managed to be counted in that number. I don’t take that lightly. But something unexpected came with the territory of being with a girl like Southside. There’s this powerful loyalty she brings to the table and, in turn, she draws the same out of those closest to her.

Guess that’s why I’m here instead of out there, hunting down my father for the shit he pulled. I’m staying put, making sure Southside’s good, because she needs someone more than ever tonight.

“Let’s get this hand cleaned up. Then, we’ll talk.”

She hesitates, but eventually nods. There’s a tough conversation ahead of us, but we’ll takethison the same way we’re learning to handle everything else.

Together.

Chapter 4

WEST

Don’t ask about the bags. At least not before getting her hand cleaned up.

Southside trails me when I head to the bathroom in search of supplies to clean her wound. While I rifle through the medicine cabinet, she takes a seat on the edge of the tub, still not speaking much. All I come up with are a few drops of alcohol, a tube of antiseptic with the cap missing, and one strip of a gauze bandage thatmightbe enough.

Note to self: Buy this girl a first-aid kit ASAP. She rages often enough that I’m sure it’ll be put to good use.

“Ok, so fair warning—the extent of my experience patching up wounds is limited to tending to injuries I’ve sustained on the field. Just thought you should know.”

She flashes another of those sad smiles before answering. “Thanks for the heads up, but I think I’m in good hands.”

I smile a little too, but hers has already faded. Why? Because Vin did a fucking number on her tonight.

Focus on her. Deal with his ass later.

Southside’s gaze flashes toward me when I settle beside her on the edge of the tub. She watches me loosen the old dressing and, somehow, I manage to get it off without hurting her more than she already is. I get my first good look at her knuckles now, and she definitely did a number on them. None of the gashes seem deep enough to require stitches, though. She got lucky.

Peering up at her, I raise a brow.

“Beautiful girl, hot temper—that’s a deadly combination,” I tease. “Ever consider anger management?”

“Once or twice, but some say being a little on the explosive side is part of my charm.” She winks playfully when I glance up from working on her hand.

“Yeah, well, we all know people lie sometimes, Southside.”

The joke actually draws a laugh out of her. One that sounds genuine, easy. I’d like to think that has something to do with me being here, looking after her.

“Ouch,” she winces, recoiling a bit when I dab her knuckles with alcohol.

“You good?”

Those dark-blue eyes of hers flash up for a second when she nods. Bringing her hand close again, I blow her skin to soothe the sting. Now, her attention’s on me instead of the pain, like it was a moment ago.

“Better?”

---