Page 84 of Shot Taker

I know what it’s like to have someone ripped from your life with zero notice. To be talking to them one moment, laughing or arguing or debating, and the next they’re gone.

That’s why I won’t let him face this alone, no matter what’s between us.

The wide hallway is lined with subtle, expensive lights. Clay takes his keys back and unlocks the door. The lights click on automatically to reveal the familiar, beautifully decorated space. The foyer leads into the white granite-swathed kitchen and, on the other side, the massive living room with low couches and a huge TV.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

He shakes his head.

I take in what he’s wearing. His knee looks swollen. “You should ice that.”

“Later.”

“At least have a shower.”

Clay pulls his sweatshirt off over his head, the jersey beneath coming with it.

An angry purple splotch has my breath catching. “What happened?”

“I dunno.”

I stroke a finger across it. He seems strong, but he’s human too.

I walk through his place to the master bedroom and bathroom. The light turns on when I step inside. I reach the shower and turn the handle.

Behind me, he stands stock still, his gaze fixed partway down the wall. I start to brush past him, but he grabs my wrist.

“Don’t go.” His thumb strokes my pulse point. His gorgeous dark eyes are full of fear and guilt and regret. “I know I don’t deserve it. But I can’t watch you leave. Not tonight.”

He wraps me in his arms, crushing me hard to his chest. My heart hammers between us, my eyes stinging with tears.

In the time we’ve been together, he’s never hugged me. If you can even call this a hug. It’s like he’s clinging to a rock to avoid being swept out to sea.

I know what it’s like to lose people and blame yourself. I want to hold him here for as long as I can.

“I care about you. So fucking much,” he rumbles into my neck. “You wanted your sister back and a fresh start. I’m a lightning rod and a mess. Your best shot was staying far away from me.”

His words gut me. I know he believes he was helping, even if that was a fucked-up way to do it.

The tattoos twining around his arms and chest could be ropes tying him down.

I’m not ready to let it go, but I can’t retreat from him either. It’s harder and harder to keep up my guard, even if my heart will get bruised.

“I didn’t want to stay away from you,” I whisper against his bare chest. My fingers dig into the smooth skin of his back.

Clay swallows hard enough that I feel it.

“Me either.”

It’s not your fault, I want to tell him.

I show him instead.

20

CLAY

Iwake to the sun coming in the gap at the bottom of my curtains.

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