Page 71 of Puck'n Bully
Hayden hums in response, his pained expression melting away.
I wet another towel and use it to wipe his neck, shoulders, and arms.
It takes a while but Hayden’s body finally relaxes. The fever medicine must’ve kicked in by now, helping him feel better.
Hayden’s breathing soon evens out, his face losing the tight lines of pain and discomfort.
He’s finally asleep.
My fingers brush against Hayden’s hand, resting lightly against his bruised knuckles. I’ve never felt so protective over anyone in my life.
“I’ll never allow your dad to hurt you again,” I whisper my promise to him.
I have no idea what I can do to help him, but I’m determined to stay at Hayden’s side and protect him. I will never make him feel like he’s all alone in this world. As long I’m breathing, he’ll always have me.
24
Hayden
My eyes slowly blink to the bright sunshine filtering in through the curtains. I stir lazily, feeling incredibly cozy under the blanket. My body still aches from all the bruises but at least, I’m warm.
This is new, I think to myself. Even waking up in my dorm room doesn’t make me feel so safe and good.
The living room with its old-fashioned plush couches and floral curtains feels incredibly cozy. The smell of roses lingers in the air, reminding me of my very first visit to this house.
A groan escapes me as I force myself to sit up. A dull pain pulses through my left shoulder and travels down to my side. I wince, rubbing the back of my sore neck.
Something slides from my forehead and falls into my lap.
Surprised, I pick up a neatly folded towel.
Memories of Liam’s soft voice, his hands gliding a cold, damp towel over my heated forehead, cheeks, and neck flood me. He’d been there to wake me up from the nightmare I was trapped in, whispering soothingly to me.
A deep sigh escapes me.
Liam always finds me in my weakest, most vulnerable moments.
I turn my head toward the couch where Liam was sleeping last night but it’s empty. Unease flickers through me. Where could he be?
Lurching to my feet, I drag my battered body toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. Panic erupts in my chest until I hear a faint sound.
Someone is humming.
Reaching the kitchen, I peer in and find Liam at the stove, stirring something on a pan. He’s wearing his usual worn-out hoodie and a pair of shorts but over them, he’s slung a ridiculous flower-pattered apron. The pattern looks faded but it’s clean.
Unaware of my presence at the threshold, he keeps singing and swaying his hips to the tune. He seems to be completely at ease, stirring a pan of eggs with practiced movements. In the corner, steam curls from a fresh pot of coffee, filling the air with its rich, warm scent.
The feeling of absolute calm and safety steals through me at the sight.
Liam jolts, suddenly glancing up at me. “Hey, you’re up.”
“Yeah,” I reply through a rough, parched throat.
Switching off the stove, he stomps toward me and presses a hand against my forehead. He waits for a moment, his gaze grim. “Your fever is gone,” he says as a grin unfurls on his luscious lips. “But you still kinda look like hell.”
A chuckle escapes me as I rub the stubble on my chin. “Yeah...I feel like it too.”
“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the table in the corner. “I made breakfast.” With that, he picks up the dish of scrambled eggs and turns away from me, oblivious to the way my gaze lingers on him.
