Page 52 of Fight for You (Flirting with Forever 2)

Hadleigh

Maybe I read Sawyer’s text wrong. I could have sworn he said he was coming here when he was done at the school, but that was two hours ago. A little seed of worry starts to form in the back of my mind. I keep trying to brush it off, but it’s like I know. Something’s not right. My phone vibrates with an incoming message. To my surprise, it’s Willow, not Sawyer.

Unknown Number: It’s Willow.

Unknown Number: Could you come to our apartment? Sawyer needs you.

Unknown Number: He won’t tell you that, but he does.

Me: You’re scaring me.

Me: What’s the address?

Unknown Number: 2284 Rockingham Road.

Unknown Number: We’re not far from that diner he took you to. Hurry.

Hurry. That one word sets me into panic mode. I grab my purse and run out the door. The whole time I’m driving, my crazy brain comes up with all sorts of far-fetched scenarios, but I can’t help myself. My head goes to bad places, but if I’m honest with myself, this can only really be one thing. Something must have happened between Ed and Sawyer at the wrestling tournament.

My car practically skids around the corner as I pull into their apartment complex. I throw open the door, get out, then slam it shut and am halfway up the stairs when Willow opens their door and steps out.

“Just so you know, he’s going to be pissed that I texted you.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Come in and see for yourself. He’s in the living room.” She nudges the door open for me and lets me go in first. I’m not surprised to see her sneak off down a hallway into one of the bedrooms and shut the door to give us some privacy.

I tread quietly into the apartment until I see Sawyer’s dark head cresting the back of the armchair he’s seated in while the TV plays some show on the History Channel.

“Sawyer?” My voice is low and raspy. I’m nervous about why it was Willow who asked me to come and not Sawyer.

He glances quickly over his shoulder, then puts his head in his heads, his elbows propped on his thighs. A low growl sounds from deep within his chest, and he scrubs his hands through his hair.

I walk around the chair until I’m standing in front of him. When he doesn’t look up, I peel off my coat and toss it on the couch behind me. Kneeling between his legs, I peer up at him, sucking in a breath as I get my first glimpse of his ruggedly handsome but fight-mottled face. “Oh, Sawyer!” I cover my mouth with both hands for a second. His right cheekbone looks red and, if I’m not mistaken, a little swollen and his lower lip looks awful. It’s puffy and split on the side and the skin around the cut is turning a very lovely shade of purple. The knuckles on his right hand are also swollen and bruised. “Babe, what happened?”

He clears his voice and grits out, “Willow wasn’t supposed to tell you to come.”

“You didn’t want to see me?” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, waiting for him to answer.

“I did, and I wanted to tell you everything that went down, but then this happened.” He jabs a finger in the direction of his face. “I let him get a couple of good tries in then decided I’d had it.” He rubs his left hand over the back of his right. “I think he looks worse than I do. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

I cringe. “Oh, man. Well, did he deserve it?”

He looks me in the eye. “You know he did. Had, the things he said … I wanted to remove his head from his body. It was bad.”

I grimace as my stomach starts to churn. “I’m scared to ask.” But knowing Ed, I can easily imagine the filth he spewed at Sawyer.

Sawyer runs his hand over his sore cheek, causing him to wince in pain. “Let’s just say he used some colorful language to describe you, asked if I was fucking my teacher—which I didn’t comment on—then he said I could have you, but it was clear he still wants you back. He’s psycho.”

I put my fingers under his chin, turning his face carefully to each side, inspecting the damage. “I’m going to get you some ice.” With a pat to his knee, I get up and hurry to the kitchen.

After a quick look in their freezer, I find a bag of peas and a bag of mixed veggies, which will be easier to manage than baggies of ice cubes. I grab the two dish towels I see in the kitchen and bring it all back out to the living room with me. I wrap each bag in a dish towel, and hold one to his chin and lip while handing him the other to put on his cheek. “Maybe you can somehow press your knuckles against it

while you hold it there.” I feel terrible that it came to this. My jaw clenches in frustration as I try to work through this mess in my head. “Do you think there will be repercussions? I mean, do you think he’ll say anything? It sounds like he’s going to look busted up on Monday, but so will you. He could blab about us, but the honest truth is we’re two adults in a relationship, outside of school hours. Mostly.” My cheeks heat.

He shrugs, nonchalantly. “Exactly. And the nerd, as he keeps calling me, rattled off some information for him about criminal harassment charges in the state of Massachusetts. That seemed to get his attention.”

My eyes widen, and I try to hide the smile forming. “You didn’t.”

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