Page 96 of Hate Game

Before I can blink or take a breath, Malice punches Rory in the face. I teeter on my skates and hit my back on the wall. I use it for leverage and push myself off with my hands. I aim for Malice’s arm. His arm is pulled back, ready to land another blow to Rory’s face.

“Stop, Malice, please.”

He’s been doing so well, and this… Him beating a guy for what was done when we were not an item is a huge step backward. I wrap my hands around his bicep and yank. He doesn’t move, even on skates. In his rage, he shoves me. I fall and hit the back of my head on the wall.

Stars fill my vision. Sharp pains shoot from the back of my head to my eye socket. I slide down the wall and onto my butt with my head cradled in my hands.

“Rue.”

My name comes to me from a distance. Nausea roils in my belly. The room spins. It’s dark, but it’s not. Lights in every shade of the rainbow move in circles around the room. Someone sticks their face near mine. I blink and blink again.

“Isaac?”

“Hey, Hard Knocks, are you okay?”

“My head hurts.”

“You hit your head hard. We should get you seen.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It could be a concussion.”

“It’s not that bad,” I repeat. “Not that bad.” My mouth is dry. “I didn’t hit it that hard,” I say again, hoping my big brother will believe me, we can forget what happened, and Malice and me can go home.

“You are not going anywhere with that mother-effer, Rue. He hurt you when he pushed you into the wall.”

“To save me from getting hurt more,” I reason.

“I don’t fucking care. He saves his energy and anger for the cages and not at a family friendly fucking skating rink!” he bellows.

I cover my ears. Isaac picks me up effortlessly and carries me out of the skating rink. I look over my shoulder. Colton and Johnny are holding Malice back. They’re not doing much except putting their hands on his shoulders. Malice locks gazes with me before he drops his gaze to the floor.

He believes he hurt me.

He didn’t. I shouldn’t have tried to get in the middle of their fight.Their.Rory isn’t in the crowd. Oh, God, he was here with his sister. Did his sister see the fight? Of course, she did. The skating rink isn’t huge, and where we were was open for all to see.

“Where is Rory?”

“The D-bag who had his hands all over you?”

“Yes,” I mumble, the headache not going away.

“He picked up his ass and his pride off the floor and left with his sister.”

“Was he hurt bad?”

“Nothing but a stomped-on pride. Your boy better up his game, Rue. The guy blocked Malice’s punches blow for blow. He’ll get his ass handed to him tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Isaac dumps me on the passenger seat of his Suburban.

“It’ll get him out of the fights early and save his beautiful face from a bashing.”

“Beautiful?” Isaac scoffs. “Guys aren’t beautiful, Rue.”

“They are to me,” I mumble.

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