Page 53 of Kortlek

“You heard me.’’ Cove snorts. “It’s all your fault. Banishing the motherfucker, really?”

Arlo gets up in Cove’s personal space, a menacing glare in his eyes. “Aria is my little sister. She begged me not to kill him, so I didn’t. She would’ve hated me if I’d killed him. What would you have done?”

“I would’ve killed the bastard.’’ Cove lowers his voice, grasping for straws to keep his temper in check, “Not only would I have killed him, but I would’ve made an example of the motherfucker. I would’ve taken his head and hung it at Times Square for everyone to see. Because I’d rather have Aria hate me and be safe than die loving me.’’

That does it for Arlo. He swings his fist, but Cove’s quick to dodge it. Blair jumps out of her seat; however, Rose’s hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her back. Rose’s trying her best not to look excited, but the prospect of a fight is getting her giddy.

Cove swings his fist, hitting Arlo’s jaw. Blood explodes from his lip, but he acts like it doesn’t hurt. Instead, he aims for Cove’s ribs. I’m unsure whether it’s because of the ungodly amount of alcohol Cove’s had since we came to his place, or because he was tired after winning two matches, but Arlo lands a hit, a solid one at that.

Cove growls, shaking his head, and the fight continues. My hands itch by my side, wanting to break them apart. However, I know better than to get in between two grown-ass men throwing hands. It will end with me getting a bruise or two, so I let them handle it themselves.

My heart aches for both of them. I hate seeing them hurt, and I hate even more seeing them hurt each other. But they don’t stop, not by a long shot. Cove grabs Arlo by the collar and smashes him against the glass coffee table.

The table breaks, and Arlo hisses in pain. He doesn’t back down, though. He punches Cove straight in his face, and as soon as I see blood dripping from Cove’s nose, my breath hitches.

“Stop it!” Blair yells, struggling, though without success, to pry herself from Rose’s grip. The two don’t stop, and it takes them a while. Their breathing is labored and heavy, and it’s clear they’re both tired.

Two stubborn morons.

Neither wants to back down.

“She’s right,’’ I sigh, leaning back into the couch. “Stop it. This is insane.’’

Cove freezes when he hears my words and steps back from Arlo. My brother, on the other hand, wants more. I throw him a sharp glare, which he returns with one of his own. He contemplates his options for a moment, then gets up and sits next to Blair.

“Stop acting like kids.’’

Blair tends to Arlo’s wounds back in the living room. His back is messed up because of the blow of the glass, though it’s nothing serious. He’ll live. Rose’s cleaning up the mess, humming a song. She’s overly happy that she got to witness a fight.

The girl is weird.

I like that about her.

The door of Cove’s bedroom closes behind me softly. He’s sitting on the bed, face clean of the blood, the dirty towel tossed next to his feet. With a sigh, I approach him, standing between his legs with the first aid kit.

“This situation feels awfully familiar,’’ he grunts.

With a snort, I flicker his forehead. “Don’t piss me off, or I’ll shove my fingers into your wound again.’’

His hands come to rest on my hips, and he finally lifts his head to meet my eyes. His lip is bruised, split in one spot. Arlo’s ring cut through his cheek, leaving a nasty cut. It’s not deep, and it won’t need stitches, but it still requires some tending to.

A low chuckle comes from him, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright. Can I be honest?”

“Always,’’ I mumble, putting on a pair of latex gloves and grabbing a cotton pad, soaking it with disinfectant.

“The night in the locker room when you put your fingers in my wound,’’ he pauses, slightly wincing as I dab in the cotton pad, thoroughly cleaning the cut.

“Yes?”

“I jerked off to that.’’

I pause, pressing the cotton pad firmly into his cheek. My eyes search for his. He’s dead serious. There’s nothing that would indicate he’s joking. No, the motherfucker is a hundred percent serious.

A loud laugh comes from me.

“You did what?!”

He nods. “I’m not into pain. Well, not to be the one on the receiving end. But you were so fucking sexy.’’

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