Page 73 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

A knock on the door interrupts my search. Saylor jumps slightly, color rising to her cheeks as she glances at the closed door.

"Say? Everything okay in there?" Mina's voice carries a mixture of concern and suspicion.

"Yes. Everything is fine," Saylor calls back, her eyes not leaving mine. "Just cleaning up."

A pause, then the sound of retreating footsteps — Mina and Chloe returning to their rooms or the living area, giving us privacy.

I locate an antibiotic ointment in the kit, along with a clean cotton swab. Standing, I move back to Saylor, who watches me with an unreadable expression.

"This might sting," I warn her.

"I've had worse." A shadow passes across her face, the events of the evening still too fresh, too raw.

Before applying the medicine, I lean in and press one more gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, just beside the cut. A promise, an apology, a beginning.

"What was that for?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I wanted to," I answer simply. "And because it might be the last time tonight. This needs to stay on all night."

The ointment goes on easily, Saylor holding perfectly still as I dab it carefully on the cut. Her eyes never leave my face, studying me with an intensity that makes my heart race.

"You should ice it," I tell her, recapping the tube. "Help with the swelling."

"So should you," she counters, gesturing to my own battered face.

"I had something, but I dropped it when you came in. Hold on."

I slip out of the bathroom, returning to the living room where the bag of peas lies forgotten on the floor. Mina and Chloe are curled on opposite ends of the couch, pretending to watch something on the television though their attention shifts immediately to me.

I nod at them, a silent acknowledgment that things are…okay. Mina's expression remains suspicious, but Chloe offers a small smile, tentative but genuine.

Back in the hallway, I notice Saylor has moved to her bedroom. She sits on the edge of her bed.

"Here," I say, entering her room and pressing the peas gently to her lip. "It's not freezing cold anymore, so it should help."

"You need it more than I do," she says, taking the pack from me and holding it instead to my cheekbone, where the worst of Byron's punches landed. Her touch is featherlight, careful of the bruising.

The simple gesture undoes me. This woman who has every right to be furious with me, to throw me out of her apartment and her life, is instead tending to my injuries with the gentlest of touches.

"Lie down," I tell her, taking the ice pack back. "You've had a hell of a night."

To my surprise, she complies, scooting back on the bed until she's resting against the pillows. I settle beside her, careful not to crowd her space, and return the ice pack to her lip.

"I'm sorry," I say again, needing her to understand the depth of my regret. "For all of it. For taunting him, for losing my temper, for embarrassing you, for making everything worse."

"I lied," she reminds me, the words slightly muffled by the ice pack. "About what I was doing tonight."

"Yeah." I shift the pack slightly, checking the swelling. "But that doesn't excuse how I behaved. I was jealous and hurt and I lashed out."

She studies me for a long moment. "You meant what you said? In the bathroom?"

"Every word." No hesitation, no equivocation. Just truth.

"Why?" The question is so simple yet contains multitudes. Why me? Why now? Why after all this?

I take a long breath, watching her, staring into those beautiful brown eyes.

I mutter, "Well, you hated me with good reason. I didn't look twice at you because you were with Byron." I set the ice pack aside, needing both hands free to properly convey what I'm feeling. "But when I'm with you, everything just…fits. Even when we're fighting, even when everything is a complete disaster like tonight, being near you feels right in a way nothing else ever has."

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