Page 72 of Fighting for You
“Freck—”
She cuts me off again, “I said no. Sit in the corner—in silence—or get out. Those are your options right now, Brooks.”
I inhale a deep breath and slowly back into the corner of the trailer where a lone chair sits. I lower myself onto it and sit in silence, just like she asked as I listen to Colton flirt with her shamelessly.
“My grandfather is actually a resident at Saint Stephen’s,” he says, wincing as she dabs at the large gash on his head.
“Oh, really?” she asks, then grabs his hand and pulls it up to the gauze she has pressed against the cut. “Hold pressure here for me.” I bristle at the contact between them, hating that he’s touching her, even if she initiated it.
He does as she says while she sifts through her bag, grabbing a few more items. “Yeah, he’s only been there for a few months, but he seems to enjoy it. We were always really close, so I’ve been trying to visit him as much as I can.”
I can see her face soften from my spot in the corner. “He’s lucky to have such a thoughtful grandson.”
Rolling my eyes, I try not to scoff.
“Thanks,” he says, puffing out his chest like a fucking douche. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around.”
She lets out a small laugh, and I clench my fists at my sides. “I don’t hang around the nurses’ station like most, I’m usually in with the residents. They tend to have all of my attention.” It sounds like a line someone would say to brag about themselves, but I know Margot well enough to know it’s the truth. Colton, however, sees it as an opportunity to shoot his shot.
“I can tell, you seem like you’re extremely dedicated to your patients’ care.” He puts his hand on her forearm, she stiffens, and I see red. It takes everything in me not to throw him out of this fucking trailer. She’s uncomfortable, it’s clear as day. He doesn’t let it stop him though. “I’ll make sure to find you and say hello next time I’m there.”
She only nods, an attempt to be polite, I’m sure.
I just sit there, and I fume.
And I wait.
I wait until she’s finished patching him up.
I wait until she’s removing her gloves and sending him away with instructions on home care.
I wait until she turns to me, looks me dead in the eyes and says, “What do you want?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
Her arms cross over her chest, grabbing onto each elbow like she’s trying to disappear into herself. Like she’d rather be anywhere else than standing in front of me and dealing with my bullshit.
“No. I have no reason to talk to you. You made it clear where we stand. So, what do you want? Why are you here?” Her words are clipped, but her voice is small, quiet. It’s like she’s trying to hold it all together, knowing if she gives in to me, it’ll all come tumbling down on her.
I rise from the chair, and her eyes trail all the way up to my face until I’m standing a foot above her. She uncrosses her arms, and for a second it looks like she might reach for me as she takes in the cut on my face. But her hand falls to her side, and she continues to stare up at me.
“Don’t do this, Margot. Don’t get involved in this shit. You have too much to lose.”
She scoffs at me then turns around and walks toward the station she has set up. With her back to me, she retorts, her voice stronger than before, “You may think I’m a child who can’t make her own decisions, but I’m a grown-ass woman. I know what I’m doing. You can’t even talk, you’re just as involved. Now, get out.”
I don’t move. I’m waiting for her to turn around, to look at me, actually see me, talk to me. Anything. But she doesn’t. The seconds tick by, and she continues rummaging around with the last of the supplies she has out.
“Just go, Brooks,” she finally says, breaking the silence between us.
I don’t give her a second look as I storm out the door and slam it behind me, the trailer rattling from the force. Hayes has apparently been waiting and tries to approach me, but Kori holds him off, telling him to leave it for now.
Making my way toward my bike, I avoid the other people milling around. I don’t grab my helmet first, I just hop on, start the ignition, and drive off.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Margot
“Fuck, Freckles.Yes.” He practically hisses the last word in my ear. “Lift your hips.” I do as Brooks asks and am rewarded by the most delicious twist of pleasure deep in my belly. He’s reaching a new spot I’ve never felt before, and I clench around him. His rough hands, adorned with bruises and split knuckles, hold my hips firmly, keeping me exactly where he wants me. His fingertips dig into my soft skin as he continues to piston into me; wet, slapping sounds echoing in my small bedroom.
