Page 34 of Laila Manning
It took six men to separate us, and when we stood a few feet apart, bleeding, chests heaving and glaring at each other, nothing else needed to be said.
Our fists said it all.
Our friendship was over.
Because neither of us would concede our claim for Laila, even if we weren’t in competition with each other in the least.
But it didn’t matter.
Minds didn’t change after fists were thrown between men like us.
I shoved the guards off and stared him down as I walked past him toward the exit. “No one will ever take care of her like I can.”
“I killed for her!” He roared. “I lost everything for her!” He thundered behind me, but I kept walking.
I scrubbed the day off in the shower, angrily washing the glass out of my wounds and letting it go down the drain. Most of them were on my back from the ride through the window, with Jed on top of me.
Cheap shot, asshole.
My fists ached and my jaw burned every time I opened it, but I didn’t regret a single hit I took. Or any I threw.
They had been necessary.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t mourn the end of a friendship all the same.
I laid my fist against the tile wall and leaned into it, letting the weight of the day wash away with the blood.
Bang, bang, bang!
I groaned as someone tried knocking down my front door with their fists when all I wanted to do was ignore the world for a few more minutes. I contemplated ignoring it, but even as I tried, the banging continued.
“Zeke!” A feminine voice echoed over the sound of the water, and I cut the shower off instantly as both excitement and trepidation coursed through my veins.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked to my front door, dripping water on the floor as I went.
Before I could reach the handle, another cry sounded from the other side. “Please open the door, Zeke!”
“Laila.” I sighed, ripping it open as I got the confirmation I sought after the first time the soft voice called out.
She stood in the hallway, wringing her hands together in front of her as she paced back and forth. She froze when I opened the door all the way, and her brown eyes traveled over my wet body, to the towel hanging around my hips, and then back to my face.
I expected arousal or excitement to fill the bottomless depths of her perfectly warm eyes, but ice water slid down my spine as tears filled them instead.
“What’s wrong?” I cleared the doorway, alert and anxious as her shoulders fell in defeat. “What happened?”
“He did this to you?” She whispered, ignoring my panic as she stared at the wounds on my arms and face.
“What?” I felt like we were both moving at two different speeds as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening.
She shook her head, and the tears that had been building fell, cascading down her cheeks. “Oh my God, Zeke.” She backed up as I took another step out into the hallway. “I’m so sorry.” She rambled. “I just got home, and Jed was waiting for me in the driveway! He said you guys fought, and then he forbade me from coming to you—” She gasped and shuddered.
“Shh,” I commanded, closing the space and taking control as she slid down the slippery slope of panic. I rubbed my hand across her cheek and around the back of her head, pulling her to my chest as she gripped my wrist, anchoring herself to me like a life raft in a hurricane. “Stop. Slow your breathing down before you pass out.”
She shook her head against my hold and covered her shaking lips with her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t,” I ordered her, pressing my lips against her hairline as she sank into my hold. “Don’t you dare, Laila.”
“He hit you.” She cried against my chest, and I wrapped my free arm around her waist, holding her closer.
