Page 71 of Wine & Whiskey
“Damn it, Nick! I think you broke my fucking nose!”
“If you weren’t my cousin, that would be the least of your fucking worries. Now get the fuck out!”
Carter stumbles out of the office, hunched over with blood pouring down his face. The office door slams shut behind him as the heat of humiliation courses through her body.
A bitter pill to swallow, knowing what he really thinks of her—nothing more than a dalliance Nick should end. But she refuses to run this time.
Taking a deep breath, she follows the red trail into the kitchen.
Her anger at Carter’s comments subsides at his pitiful state. Bent over the cast iron sink, his sun-bleached hair hangs in his face as blood streams down his chin, his knuckles white from gripping the sides. “Here, let me help you.”
She pulls out the sprayer nozzle, and using her hand to buffer the force, gently rinses off his nose and mouth. Pink tinted water swirls on the white enamel before flowing down the drain. “Pinch your nose shut, and I’ll get you some ice.” After grabbing a dishtowel, she wraps ice cubes inside the terrycloth and holds it against the bridge of his nose.
He flinches at the pressure, but doesn’t pull away. “Son of a bitch. That hurts.”
“It’ll help keep the swelling down.”
He feels for the stool behind him and sits down, closing his dark blue eyes, the only similarity between the two cousins. His lithe surfer body, tense from the pain, contrasts with Nick’s thick, muscular build. “How did you learn to treat broken noses?”
“Watching the medics while we were on tour. You’d be surprised how many people get hurt during rehearsals and shows, and the regular goofing around that gets people in trouble. Everybody drinks on their days off.”
A shudder runs through his body after he leans back against the counter. “So, I guess you heard everything.”
Enough to humiliate her that he thinks the only interest Nick could possibly have in her is between her legs. Crudeness replaces his earlier charm as he faults her for their problems. “I didn’t realize you think so little of me.”
“It’s not that. I was just pissed and trying to get Nick’s attention. I know I pushed it too far.” He gingerly touches the tip of his nose. “Learned that lesson.”
“You’re the second person today who’s said Nick and I shouldn’t be together. It’s not a good feeling to know the people you care about are against you.”
He opens his bloodshot eyes, already puffy with purple and black streaks. The reminder of Nick’s anger will be obvious for weeks. “I don’t think Nick gives a damn if I like it or not.”
“I’m sure he’s hurt you don’t trust his judgment.”
“I used to. Lately, it seems clouded.”
Drops of water dribble down her arm from the improvised ice pack, and she tosses it into the sink. Unwilling to let him see her cheeks burn with embarrassment, she doesn’t turn back to face him. “By me?”
“We live in a very dangerous world. He needs to stay focused or—”
“That’s enough, Carter.” She jumps at Max’s hard voice in the doorway. The irritation leveled at Nick’s cousin evaporates as he talks to her. “Thanks for helping him. I’ll take over from here.”
Not wanting to be in the middle of another argument, she welcomes Max’s dismissal. Finding Nick is more important than disagreeing with Carter. “Okay, thank you. Can you please find him some Tylenol?”
She walks through the foyer and knocks on the office door before pushing it open. “Can I come in?”
Nick strides toward her, blocking the entrance. Another attempt to protect her from the violence of his world, especially when it’s instigated by him. “Let’s go outside. We can talk on the deck.”
The destruction from Nick’s rage mars the room behind him. The toppled bookcase, along with papers and glass bottles strewn across the floor, reflect the physical effects, while the creases on his forehead reveal his emotional devastation. “We don’t have to leave. I know what happened.”
“You heard?”
She swallows down the bitterness and nods. “I’m a distraction.”
He steps backward and lets her inside. Absentmindedly massaging his hand, his fingers trace the scratch across his knuckles. “God damn him.”
The last twenty-four hours she’s felt the stab of disapproval from the people she loves, and now the knife moves to him. “Carter’s not the first person to say we shouldn’t be together. We’re going to have to get used to everyone being against us.”
“Fuck all of them. We don’t need anyone’s approval.”
