Page 44 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“Nicky. Let me look at your lip.”

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to let her take care of me right now. “Not everyone is your friend, Brit. I told you that guy was trouble.” The adrenaline still surging in my veins made my voice come out angry, and her lip trembled.

She nodded her head, her eyes wide and unblinking and—

Fuck, she was shaking. All the fight drained from my body and I slumped against the door. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Come here.”

I tugged her wrist until she slid across the seat, falling against my chest. I wrapped her in my arms, breathing through her hair. She hadn’t even seen the way that guy looked at her at the bar. She hadn’t even sensed the danger. He must have followed her out there. I didn’t think I’d ever get that look out of my head. I shouldn’t have fucking left her.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

Her voice shook, and I felt something pierce my sternum. “Brit.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She wiped at her eyes with her palms. “Whew. That was just . . . scary.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I took her hand and inspected it. She had a bruise on her knuckles already, but it wasn’t swollen. “You hit that guy?”

She nodded again.

“How did you learn how to do that?”

“I took boxing lessons for a while. Well, three classes.”

I laughed unintentionally. “Jesus.”

“I know.” A tiny hint of a smile brushed her lips.

I shook my head, fighting my own smile. In the middle of all the emotion coursing through me, I was fucking proud of her. “You busted that guy’s face.”

“I got lucky. He wasn’t expecting it. Thank you. For, you know . . . coming back.”

I rubbed my thumbs under her eyes. They came back black from her eye makeup and she laughed through her sniffles. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’m just emotional because I’m tired.”

“All right.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting her have that excuse. “Let’s go home.”

Back in our room, I MacGyvered an ice pack out of the shower cap in our bathroom and held it against Brit’s knuckles. “You can move it okay?”

She flexed her fingers to show me she could. It didn’t look like we were dealing with a sprain or anything worse. I said a littlethank youand flopped backward onto the bed. Shit, I was exhausted. I didn’t know how I was going to manage ten hours behind the wheel tomorrow.

Brit was unusually quiet, and I could see the events of the night running through her head. Her eyes were glassy, her body still. I wanted to put her in bed and hold her until she fell asleep. Which wasn’t at all what I’d imagined we’d be doing when we got back to this room.

I grabbed the toothbrushes we’d asked for at the front desk, and she followed me into the bathroom. We brushed together and I tried not to wince as the mint burned my split lip. It was going to be ugly tomorrow, I could already tell.

“Put some ice on it,” Brit said, watching me in the mirror. “My hand is fine. Use the pack for yourself.”

I spit and shook my head. Apparently I was going to be a macho idiot about the whole thing.

Brit rinsed her mouth, then stormed into the bedroom, grabbing the ice pack. She pressed it to my face, not entirely gently.

I met her eyes in the mirror. “Can I rinse, please?” I asked, my voice muffled by the toothbrush and the ice.

She huffed but let me. “I’m sorry.”

I wiped my mouth. “Don’t apologize, Brit. You make me feel like a real asshole when you do that.”

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