Page 81 of The Off-Limits Play

“Would you back off?” I shove his shoulder, and he turns with a steady look that makes me want to shrink… or crawl into a foxhole.

Fuck!

Leaning back against the counter, I rest my ass on the edge and tuck my hands under my armpits. My shirt is soaking wet, so I pull it off, throwing it on the kitchen floor. Grabbing a dish towel off the oven door handle, I dry my face and body. Fuck, my chin hurts. I finger the lump where Fleischer got me and growl, dabbing my lip.

At least I’ve stopped bleeding.

“So, what happened?”

“I didn’t mean for her to get hurt, okay?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Zander pulls out a tub of ice cream. What the fuck is that doing in there? Who bought that? We’re not allowed to eat this shit.

Snatching it from his hand, I spin and yank open the utensil drawer, hoping Nylah likes ice cream as I snatch out a spoon and mutter, “It’s killing me. I made her fucking cry.”

“What happened?” Zander’s voice is so calm that it’s pissing me off.

I slap the drawer closed and turn to face him again. He’s standing there, holding an ice pack and looking like the literal calm in the middle of my fucking hurricane.

With a heavy sigh, I dip my chin and admit, “Fleischer got to me.”

Zander snorts. “That guy is such an asshole. What started it?”

“He opened his fucking mouth.” It’s the best I can do. It’s not like I can admit what Fleischer said. Zander will kill my ass for getting involved with Nylah. I can’t tell anyone.

“What’d he say?”

Of course he wants more details! Shit!

Working my jaw to the side, I scramble for a decent comeback and eventually land on “He was talking shit about Nylah. I didn’t like it.” I glare at him with a look that warns him not to ask for more.

He stares right back at me, then nods and holds out the ice pack. “I’m guessing she tried to stop you guys.”

I snatch the ice pack with a growl. “I couldn’t even hear her, man. I didn’t even see her standing there.”

He nods like he gets it. Probably because he’s seen me like that before.

My eyebrows pull together, this horrible feeling washing right through me as I brush past him and stalk back to the living room.

Sienna’s kneeling beside the couch, helping Nylah into a fresh pair of baggy sweats and a hoodie that swamps her.

“This is Zander’s, but it’s my favorite.” Sienna grins. “It’s my comfort hoodie.”

I fucking hate seeing her in Zander’s hoodie, but I can’t go admitting that and giving myself away.

I swallow down the growl in my throat as Nylah smiles at Sienna and murmurs a soft “Thank you.”

Shit. That smile. It hits me right in the chest. Those eyes. The fact that she can look that way even when she’s hurting takes me out. I want to drop to my knees and crawl across the floor. I want to fucking beg her to be mine.

But I don’t deserve her.

I fucking hurt her tonight.

My stomach writhes and twists like an ocean storm is surging through me.

“Fucking Fleischer,” I mutter, walking around Sienna as she gently lifts Nylah’s legs back onto the couch.

Nylah winces in obvious pain but doesn’t say anything.

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