Page 67 of Bittersweet Revenge
Cillian jerks the door open the second we hit the porch. “Everything good?”
“Yeah, we’re all right. He’s fucking dead,” I answer while he looks at Aislin.
“Hey, you okay?” She nods and goes into his arms, Cillian hugging her. “You did good.” He kisses her temple.
“I didn’t do it.”
“That’s good. None of us want that for you,” Rory replies, and she lets him hug her too.
“Thanks, Ror…Cil. I’m going to bed.”
I nod, then say, “I’ll be up in a minute.” I’m not leaving her alone tonight, though I crave the same thing—not to be around anyone. Dean will have to understand that Aislin is the most important thing.
“No. Not tonight. I just want to be by myself, T.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I love you, but the decision isn’t yours to make. I really just want to pass out.”
I’m still not convinced. She’s never seen me shoot someone before. Maybe it was harder than she thought? Maybe it’s me she doesn’t want to be around. Maybe this will be the thing that comes between us.
“I love you.” Aislin kisses my cheek, then heads straight for the stairs.
My gaze finds Cillian’s, then Rory’s.
“We’ll make sure she’s good,” Cil says.
“It’s not you,” Rory adds. “I’m sure tonight was just a lot for her.”
“I’m fine.” I shake off their concern, though I’m really not fucking fine. The thing is, I know I’m overreacting, know that I’m all up in my fucking head. Tonight wasn’t anything new, but it did feel different. “Where’s Dean?”
“In your room.”
Though I shouldn’t have missed it, I notice his black eye for the first time. “What the fuck happened? Who hit you?”
“Your boy. Punched him back. Tell him not to do it again, or I won’t go so easy on him.”
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes. It’s always fucking something. “I can’t deal with this tonight. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. And next time don’t fucking bring him here unless I tell you to.”
I disappear upstairs without another word. It takes everything in me not to go into Aislin’s room. Considering I dragged her to a murder and almost let her pull the trigger, respecting her wishes is the least I can do.
I open the door, and Dean is sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed except for shoes. The only light on is the one on the nightstand, his bag beside the bed and his leg bouncing as our gazes clash.
The door closes with aclickbehind me. No words fall from my mouth. I don’t know what I want to say, if I want to say anything at all, so I just walk…don’t stop walking until I’m right in front of Dean, standing between his thighs. Reaching out, I brush my thumb over his swollen bottom lip.
“Your fucking friend is a dick.”
“And you’re not?” I manage to say.
“Not as big of one as you.”
“I never claimed to be anything else.” Still, my muscles tighten, throat closes up, almost making it hard to swallow. There’s no doubt in my mind that Dean hit him first. Cillian’s not dumb. He protected himself, but I still want to burn the world down anytime someone touches him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I try to step away, try to put some distance between us because I’m a fucking mess tonight, but Dean’s hands shoot out, grabs hold of my wrist, doesn’t let me move.
“I should have been with you all night.”
Before I realize what’s happening, he pushes his other hand under my shirt and grabs my gun. Fuck. I forgot it was there. I’m making a whole lot of stupid mistakes where he’s concerned.
