Page 46 of Boots & Scars

She came back with eggs and unbuttered toast, water, and my pills.

"Here," she said, presenting her food with pride. "My mother taught me how to cook. She says the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

I took the plate. The scent was overwhelming and made my stomach twist. "Is that what you're after, sweetie?" I asked. "My heart?"

"What? No." She blushed, shifting her weight. "I just, I hope you enjoy the food."

I downed the pills before I ate.

"Hey, you're supposed to eat?—"

I gave her a look. "You talk too damn much," I said. "It's too early for your shit."

We both glared at each other. "It's twelve thirty in the afternoon," she snapped.

"Why are you here?" I asked, taking a bite of the egg. It actually wasn't bad, but my stomach protested, twisting and churning like it had a vendetta against me.

"I told you," she said. "You called me twice."

"So?" I looked at her, frowning. "That doesn't mean you show up."

"I had to make sure you were okay," she replied, her voice firm.

"Looking like that?" I dropped my eyes to her dress, the fabric wrinkled and clinging to her in all the right places.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was going to a party?—"

"That frat party," I interrupted, remembering her little discussion with that asshole earlier in the week. For some reason, this caused me to scowl.

"But I didn't," she said quickly. "When I found you unconscious, I got really worried. I saw the bottle you shattered, by the way. I picked that up. I didn't want you stepping on glass or anything. That could ruin your career."

"Newsflash, sweetie," I said, my voice dripping with bitterness. "My career is already ruined."

Everly took a breath, looking like she was about to say something but thought better of it.

"That doesn't answer my question," I continued, setting the plate down on the nightstand with more force than necessary. "Why are you here?"

"I answered it," she insisted. "I wanted to make sure you were?—"

"Why do you care?" The edge in my voice sliced through the air between us.

She stared at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable for a moment before they hardened. "Because," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, "you're a person and you deserve to be cared about. Even if you are… even if you're not very nice."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. My instinct was to lash out, push her away before she got too close and saw too much. But something in her gaze stopped me—something raw and real that made my defenses falter for just a second.

"You don't know anything about me," I muttered.

"I know enough," she shot back. Her voice softened then, almost a whisper. "And maybe... maybe I just care because it's who I am. And not even you can change that."

I scoffed but didn't respond immediately. Instead, I reached for the glass of water she'd brought me earlier and took a long drink, using the moment to collect myself.

This girl—this sheltered little thing—had managed to slip past my defenses without even trying. And that terrified me more than any hit I'd ever taken on the ice.

"Well, you can go now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The headache still pounded behind my eyes, making it hard to think straight.

"Are you sure?" Everly asked, her brows knitting together in concern. "When I was researching hangovers, I found that alcohol doesn't leave the system right away. And judging by the amount you consumed, you could still be drunk. I don't want you to choke on your own vomit or slip and fall down the stairs."

I gave her a long look before chuckling, despite the pain it caused. "You're something else, aren't you? Researching hangovers. You'd think your daddy would teach you about stuff like that."

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