Page 56 of Klutch's Kryptonite

As if my thoughts could summon the man himself, the infirmary door slowly swings open. I lift up on my elbow and look over my shoulder. Standing there like a fallen angel is the man who has consumed me body and soul. Klutch eyes lock onto mine before methodically scanning over my injuries.

“Blue,” he says, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end at the haunted look on his face. My eyes track over him, taking in the evidence of what he’s done—blood splattered across his shirt, his bruised and split knuckles, a smear of something dark across his neck.

McKenna slides off the gurney, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m gonna go,” she mumbles, pointing to the door.

Klutch steps aside to let her pass, then approaches the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge. The mattress creaks under his weight, and I find myself shrinking back instinctively. I’ve never been scared of him before, but this feels different. Like something dark is lurking under the surface waiting to strike.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words tumbling out. “I should have listened to you. You were trying to keep me?—”

“They could have hurt you,” he snaps, cutting me off. His jaw clenching so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

I’ve never seen him like this—so tightly wound, so close to the edge. I scoot back a little further, suddenly unsure.

His expression softens just a fraction when he notices my retreat. With a gentleness that contrasts the fury radiating from him, he reaches out and grasps my chin, tilting my face up to examine my split lip and bruised cheek.

“I’d kill them all over again if I could,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing just below the cut on my lip.

Something breaks inside me at his words. All the fear, all the grief, all the guilt comes rushing out in a flood of tears.

“I don’t want this,” I sob, my whole body shaking. “I don’t want to be the reason you hurt people. I don’t want to be the cause of more violence. My dad is dead because of me. Because I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t save him, and now you’re—you’re?—”

“Stop!” Klutch commands, his hands moving to frame my face. “Listen to me, Blue. This isn’t on you. None of it. Your dad made his choices. Frankie made his. And I made mine.”

“But if I hadn’t gone to the apartment?—”

“Then they would have found you somewhere else,” he cuts in, his eyes burning into mine. “Men like that don’t stop. They don’t give up. They would have hunted you down eventually.”

I shake my head, unable to accept his logic through the thick fog of grief and guilt. “I’m afraid of what killing them will do to you.” That it will change him.

“Don’t you get it?” he asks, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “You’re mine, Blue. I’d kill for you. Die for you! That’s what you mean to me.”

I hold his stare and can see the truth in his eyes. This man who is capable of such violence would give his life for mine. That’s not what I want. If anything happened to him…

I open my mouth to say as much when the infirmary door opens again.

Bravo steps back in, medical bag in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly sorry. “I’m about to head back to work and wanted to see if you’d changed your mind about some pain meds.” He quirks a brow.

My brows pinch. Work? I thought everyone worked for the club. “Work?” I ask, voicing my thoughts.

“I’m a doctor over at Memorial. I work swing shift in the Emergency Room.” Memorial Hospital is where Klutch’s mom works. Small world.

Bravo moves to my side, his clinical gaze assessing. “So? Pain meds?” he asks again, checking his watch. He must be in a hurry.

I open my mouth to decline again, but my bossy boyfriend decides to answer for me. “Yes. She needs something.”

I want to argue that I can decide for myself, but the look in Klutch’s eyes stops me dead in my tracks. He needs this. He needs to take care of me right now. After what I’ve been through—what he’s done for me—I surrender and give him that.

“Okay,” I agree softly.

Bravo nods, pulling a small bottle from his bag and shaking two tablets into his palm. “These will help with the pain and help you sleep.”

Klutch reaches for the water pitcher on the side table and fills a glass half full. “Here, baby.”

“Thanks,” I take the glass then grab the pills out of Bravo’s hand. I toss the little white capsules into my mouth and chase them down with the water.

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