Page 71 of Derailed
The door rattles with the slam of a fist and fear claws at mychest.
Sean’s fingers tighten around my waist beneath theblanket.
“She in there? She fucking in there?”Coy.“I will kill you. I will fucking killyou.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.Sometimes fear is paralyzing, but in this instance it douses my body with adrenaline. Quiet as I can, I attempt to slip from thebed.
Only Sean won’t let me. He pushes up onto one elbow and presses a finger to his lips.Stay quiet.Yeah, no kidding! Does it stop Coy from assaulting Sean’s door? Not in theslightest.
“I have to go,” I whisper, and try again to pull out from hisembrace.
He shakes his head, a deep scowl etching lines into his forehead. “Don’t. You stay here. I’ll handlehim.”
“No.” The thought catapults more anxiety into my limbs and this time it’s me holding Sean from making another move. “I don’t want him to hurtyou.”
“Like he hurt you?” His gaze narrows and drops to the bruises on my skin. He shakes his head, letting loose a ragged breath, and I can’t bring myself to hold his stare. His whispered commands only bring on more shame. “Go to the bathroom. Lock the door. I’ve gotthis.”
“This is all my fault.” I squeeze my eyes shut as if somehow that will help block out Coy’s angry shouts or reverse time so I wouldn’t be here in Sean’s bed. If I could take it back . . . no. I wouldn’t take back our night together. But this—Coy here and angry—is all on me. What did I expect? That I could go from the drummer to the bass player without any confrontation or retribution? As if Coy would let me? I was a fool to forget Coy’s vengeance, even for anight.
“No. It’s not. We were both consenting participants. Now, go.” Sean points to the bathroomdoor.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for, but the words leave my mouth regardless. Sliding from the warmth of Sean’s blankets, I pad quietly into the bathroom and lock the door. Pressing my ear against the wooden panel, I hold my breath and strain my ears to make out what’s goingon.
Coy continues to bang and cuss at thedoor.
“Fucking hell. I’m coming.” Sean’s weary shout stops Coy’sracket.
I hope he knows what he’s doing, because something tells me Sean underestimates Coy. And if something happens to Sean . . . If Coy hurts him because of me? I don’t think I can live with that on my conscience. This isn’t his battle to fight. It’smine.
