Page 69 of Beautiful Ruins
The two of us had done plenty of that over the past day—not saying exactly what we wanted to. But I had a feeling that was about to change when Bear looked up at me, his eyes burning holes into my face.
He sniffed, swiping the back of his wrist across his nose, smearing a streak of blood. “You reckon I lost it back there too?” His words weren’t an attack, more like a confession.
Even sitting, he looked like a grenade with the pin half-pulled. His jaw worked, his shoulders twitching with the effort it took not to snap.
I shrugged. “Not sure it matters what I think.” My own hands twitched at my sides, the phantom weight of the knife I’d used to stab Marcus lingering for just a second.
I wanted to kill Snake as much as Bear for what he’d done, but I knew I’d lose. Snake would have ended me before I’d even lifted a hand. And I couldn’t leave Rowan. Not while death was still circling.
Bear narrowed his eyes. “That’s not true,” he said, his tone softer than I was used to. “And you know that.” He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, slower than usual.
For the first time, he looked human. Vulnerable, even. Bleeding made him real.
I wasn’t entirely sure what he was hinting at, but instead of asking what he meant, I just nodded to his knuckles. “Come on, I’ll clean those up for you.”
Sighing, he dropped onto a nearby barstool. He looked at me like he wanted to say something else. Something bigger. Butthe moment passed, and he just nodded toward the sink. “First aid kit is under there.”
I ducked behind the bar and found the kit from where he’d said it was, wedged between a crate of cheap bourbon and a half-used bottle of bleach. I yanked it out, scattering a handful of straws and a sticky coaster with a naked cartoon woman on it. I ignored the mess and moved to sit in front of Bear.
My pulse had slowed enough that my hands weren’t shaking, but I still couldn’t shake the lingering nausea. I pulled out a small plastic bottle of saline and unscrewed the cap, dousing the first cut. Bear hissed through his teeth, then grunted as he shifted on the stool.
The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself as I dabbed at the wound with a cotton ball. “Don’t be such a baby.”
He winced, but his lips turned up at the corners. “You’re good at this,” he muttered. That made me pause, and I lifted an eyebrow as I continued to dab at the cuts. “Cleaning up wounds.” He clamped his mouth shut, like he hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
But I understood the meaning behind them.
“Yeah,” I said, focusing on the jagged tear in his knuckle. “I’ve had a fair bit of practice over the last couple of years.” The words just slipped out, but I didn’t regret them.
I hadn’t been able to open up to Rowan or Jasmine, but they knew me better than anyone. Something about opening up to Bear, to someone I barely knew, felt safer. Maybe it was because Bear hadn’t known me long enough to be disappointed. Or maybe it was just easier to fall apart with a stranger.
He nodded, not missing a beat, like he understood exactly what I wasn’t saying. “Is that why you came home?” he said, his face contorting as he winced again.
The saline solution trickled over one of the larger cuts, rinsing it clear of blood.
I tilted my head, examining the open wound. “I stabbed him. There was no undoing it.” The memory was as clear as the moment I’d grabbed the knife and pressed it into Marcus’s flesh.
Bear blew out a breath, the warmth of it fanning my face. “Knew there was a reason I liked you,” he murmured. “You’ve got a bit of bite. You’re a survivor, Sades. Seems to be the norm in this town. Where is the bastard now?”
I lifted a shoulder, the motion meant to be casual, but the weight of the situation still sat on my chest like a boulder. “Probably still in Sydney. He can’t come near me. I have a restraining order out against him.” Even as I spoke the words, their hollowness echoed around my skull.
I’d grown up in a town full of criminals, and I knew that a mere piece of paper meant nothing if someone was truly intent on doing harm. It was the best my father had managed, short of having the bastard thrown behind bars. But Marcus being a lawyer, he would have undoubtedly found some cunning loophole to exploit.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that he hadn’t tried to contact me since I’d left. That had to count for something. It was possible he was just going to leave me the hell alone.
I held onto that hope like a lifeline.
“You should tell Rowan,” Bear said, inspecting the knuckles on his right hand as if they held the answers.
My fingers froze mid-motion, the cotton ball hanging loose. “I don’t know.” I sat back, dropping the bloodied mess onto the bar top. “I don’t want him to look at me differently. We’ve got history, and not the good kind. I don’t want him thinking it’s on him.”
Bear scoffed, scratching at his beard. “Doesn’tmatter what you say, I think he’ll always carry that guilt. I just . . .” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “I need to know that if things get serious with Rowan, you won’t abandon him again.” I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but guilt clogged my throat. I couldn’t find the words even as Bear put a hand up. I clamped my mouth shut. “Just hear me out,” he said.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest, bracing myself for the blow of Bear’s words.
I imagined he was going to tell me I wasn’t good enough for Rowan and I should just leave him be before things went too far. I wasn’t sure I’d listen, but I’d at least hear him out.
“I saw what losing Logan—losing you—did to him. He was a mess for months, then his old man got in his ear, same as Logan’s and well, here we are. Rowan is nothing like the old bastard. He’s got a fucking heart, for starters. And as much as he tries to hide it, it bleeds every time he looks at you. Don’t know if that’s love, or whatever, but I don’t think he’d survive if you took off again. And . . . you know, you’re growing on me.” He let out a small sound, a mix between a grunt and a chuckle. “But don’t tell anyone, or I’ll have to kill you.”
