Page 55 of Light

With a sigh, I slide down the wall to my bottom and hug my arms around my legs. I'm so fucking screwed. I don't know what he's talking about. I don't know what paperwork I'm supposed to sign over to him. Don't know who could've hurt one of his men...

Like a lightening bolt to my spine, I know that last thought is false. There is only one person in my life that would even think about going after one of Deke's men.

The anger that washes over me is excessive, even I know it but part of me can't help but think if Light hadn't gone an mettled in my business maybe Deke wouldn't have shown up here and put a fucking time limit on me.

As the thoughts continue to rush through my mind, the telltale sound of a bike coming in the direction of the house cuts through the air.

The rumble of Light’s bike draws closer, and for once, instead of being a wave of relief, it curdles something ugly in my chest.

I don’t move from where I’m slumped against the wall until the engine cuts off. His heavy boots crunch against the gravel of the driveway. I wipe at my face quickly, trying to erase the evidence of what just happened, but the sting on my cheek betrays me.

A knock sounds. Sharp. Impatient.

I push myself to my feet, legs trembling under me, and move to the door. My hand finds the knob but hesitates.

No more pretending everything is fine.

I crack the door open just enough to see him. Light’s standing there, helmet under one arm, his hair tousled from the ride, a cocky half-smile already tugging at his mouth.

Until he really looks at me.

I don’t give him a chance to step inside. I wedge my body against the door, keeping it mostly closed between us.

“Before you come in,” I say, my voice low but steady, “has anything happened that I should know about?”

He frowns, caught off guard. “What? No. Why?”

I study him, waiting. He looks confused, annoyed even. Then his gaze sharpens, landing on the side of my face. I see the exact second he notices. The way his jaw goes tight, the way his hand flexes at his side.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” His voice is a rough growl now, danger thrumming under the surface.

I look away, but the door stays firm against him. I don't want to tell him. I don't want to deal with him right now. But Light’s patience was never something he had an abundance of.

He shoves a hand against the door, not to break in, but enough to force me to look at him. His blue eyes blaze.

“Tell me, Melissa,” he demands, his voice shaking with barely leashed anger. “Who the fuck touched you?”

A bitter laugh slips from my lips. “Who do you think?”

His face darkens, like a thundercloud ready to break open and drown everything around it.

“And you want to know why?” I continue, my voice brittle as glass. “Because of you.”

He reels back like I slapped him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snaps.

“You beat up one of Deke’s men. You didn’t even think to tell me. Didn't think about what that would mean for me.” My voice cracks. I hate it. “Because of you, he came here tonight. Broke into my house. Slapped me across the face. Destroyed half my living room. And now he’s given me a week to sign over some paperwork I don’t even fucking know about.”

Light’s mouth works like he’s trying to find words, but there aren’t any good ones for this.

“Melissa—” he starts.

“No.” I cut him off. “You had no right. You don’t get to make decisions about my life without even telling me. You blindsided me.”

He steps forward, but I press the door harder between us. A physical barrier. Necessary.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, voice rough.

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