Page 26 of Blissful Hook

Gracie stays where she is, her feet planted firmly on the floor, eyes wide. She raises a hand to the back of her head and winces.

Her eyes meet mine through the dispersing crowd, the lack of drama doing little to entertain their drunken minds. A brave group of stragglers stand off to the far side, watching her, almost as if they can't believe the small, innocent-looking girl in front of them could have possibly stood up to a complete maniac.

I tear my eyes away from hers and glance around me, searching for her scary big brother to no avail. Oakley is nowhere to be seen. It’s almost a relief. The space around me is empty now as I dart my eyes around the bar, the tightness in my chest from being squished shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers fading into nothing.

"You okay?" Gracie's voice runs down my spine, sending chills down to the bone. My eyes lock on the thin, red cut above her eyebrow and the several scratches on her arms as soon as I turn back around. I’m shocked that I resist the sudden, almost overbearing need to run my calloused finger around her wound in hopes of taking the pain away. Her hair is knotted and her cheeks are flushed. I almost chastise her for asking if I’m okay after what just happened to her, but I don’t want to upset her.

I swallow harshly and nod. "We need to clean those cuts and make sure you didn’t crack your damn skull."

Her lips part slightly, a hiss slipping between them when she reaches up and touches the back of her head, flinching back at the sting. "Okay."

"Were you . . . you know? Watching that back there?" she asks after a few beats of awkward silence as we walk side by side towards the dingy bathroom.

"Only the last part," I lie. I keep my eyes trained in front of me, swerving us between stumbling idiots as I try to force this uneasy feeling deep, deep down and leave me the hell alone.

The stupid stick man rests above the men's washroom. I don't hesitate to push the creaky door open and place my hand on her lower back, leading her inside. "Stay here," I order and leave her beside the door before she can argue with me. I move towards the closed stalls, kicking open the closed doors one at a time, which luckily for us all happen to be empty. I turn to the door and twist the lock.

"Can I move now?" she asks, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as I watch her fold her arms across her chest. My eyes flash down to the prominent cleavage showing as she unknowingly pushes her tits up with her arms, but I manage to pull them back to the dried cut.

I turn on the creaky faucet and grab a wad of paper towels from the holder as I wait for the water to heat up. She leans back against the countertop when I turn back around, bright eyes glued on me, greedily watching me gather everything I need to clean her up.

"Get up on the counter," I tell her, wetting a piece of paper towel in the now warm water. Looking back, I watch as she raises an eyebrow at my somewhat forceful command and cocks her head to the side.

"What's the magic word?"

Setting the wet towel down beside the sink, I turn to her, taking slow—almost predatory steps until we're close enough that I can watch the desperate swallow she takes. Her eyes trail up my torso, until they rest hungrily on mine.

"Now."

Her surprised yelp makes me smirk again as I place my hands on her waist and lift her effortlessly onto the cold counter. I reach over and wrap the wet towel in my hands, moving between her legs.

"Wasn't that so much easier?" she teases.

"Sit still. I don't want to hurt you," I mumble as I raise my hand and gently pat at the dried crimson with the rough paper towel.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I am a big girl."

Ignoring her comment, I spin her to the side before parting a section of blood soaked hair, finding nothing more than a small cut. I sigh in relief and carefully wipe away the blood. “How did this happen anyway?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes dramatically. "I saw Beth when I finished talking to my brother. Apparently she lost Oakley and wanted someone to take her to Adam. I said no.”

I toss the last paper towel into the trash and back up to examine how iffy of a job I did and I nod my head in approval. That is as good as it was going to get. I move to take a step back but her fingers wrap around my wrist to pull me back in place.

"Thank you," she whispers, tangled in each other's gaze as we stay surrounded by the silence given to us by the private bathroom.

The feeling of her fingers rubbing across the top of my hand consumes me as fast as the heat behind her eyes has. I want nothing more than to sit here and feel her delicate touch on my imperfect skin all night long.

"Let me in," she murmurs quietly, inching closer to me. The seconds flick away slowly around us.

"You wouldn't like what you would see."

The air surrounding us is thick, heavy with tension, almost like the world is begging me to open up and let her see the deepest, darkest parts of myself that have been expertly hidden from everyone, including myself. She has no idea what she's asking of me. Of herself even. She doesn't deserve any more heartbreak in her life.

She's too pure.

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