Page 70 of Play Dirty
Nico finally turns, his hands bloody and his jaw clenched tight. He steps forward, and I move back until I hit the wall. He looks confused.
“Are you afraid of me, Blondie?”
Afraid.
More like mortified. Aroused.
Conflicted.
Words fail me, and I blink. “Don’t be afraid, I would never hurt you. Are you okay, Blondie?” I say nothing. Not even as his body completely steps in front of me, stealing the air from my lungs when he cups my face into his hands. “Did he touch you?”
I blink hard. I bite down on my lip as I shake my head. “Good.” He steps closer, his leg between mine as he inspects me, making sure I’m truly okay. My heart swells, growing in size as I see the warmth in his darkened gaze.
“You followed me.” It is not a question, it’s a statement. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that I did. “Why?”
I let out a shaky breath, my hands opening and closing at my sides. The pain coming from my left hand is a low, distant ache in my bones. “You’re hurt.”
Bringing my hand between us, I rub my wrist. “I tried to swing a bottle of beer, and he slammed my hand into the wall.”
“Asshole, I should—” I stop him, my hand flattening out on his firm chest, feeling the way it slowly rises. He looks down where I’m touching… “Shi, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know, but I needed to know.”
He arches his pierced brow, “Know?”
“I don’t know, so many strange things are happening. I don’t know if I'm losing my mind, and honestly, I’m not sure who to trust.”
He pulls away, taking a deep breath. My hand falls, smacking gently against my thigh. “Don’t trust me, Shiloh.”
Nico doesn’t stutter; his words are low and like gravel. Pained. “You should leave, it's not safe for you here.”
“I’m not leaving.”
We remain at a standstill. For once, he looks at me. The look in his eyes is pained and full of sorrow. As if internally, he’s battling his need over his trauma, so I look away, shattering the trance. Snapping the link between us, as painful as it is…
“Where did you park?” He asks, breaking the silence, already working on shutting me out. How stupid of me to think that things could be different after that day. I scoff lightly, to think I could fix whatever parts of him are torn to shreds from my father was wishful thinking at best. But he slams the door in my face.
His words ring in my head.‘Do you know how fucked it is to love someone you can’t even look at?’
I didn’t understand, but I wanted to.
But that could never happen in a world where love isn’t on the table… I decided a long time ago that if I can't have love, then I’ll have power. Truth is power, so here’s to the truths still hiding inside him waiting for me to shine light on them. Waiting to unravel.
“I’m not leaving.” I fold my arms in front of my chest, watching as his nostrils flare. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gives in, and I see the tension physically leave his body when he offers me his hand.
“Give me something, Nico,” I plead, my voice low, almost a whisper. “Just make it real.” My hand slips within his. The weight in my chest is that of coming home.
“Come, I’ll show you real.”
My heart leaps from his words. Hand in hand, he guides us out of the alley, and the little boy runs towards him.
“NICO!” He shouts before slamming into him, the little boy's arms wrapped around his waist. An elderly woman steps out of the yellow house, her brown eyes sparkling as she sees our connected hands.
“Ahh, this must be June.” She mutters in broken English. My heart sinks, and I quickly pull away my hand. Shame burns through me, causing warmth to spread through my cheeks. I’m sure I look like a tomato, and the grin on the little boy's face confirms I do.
“No abuela, this is not June.” Nico corrects her, and the woman raises a brow. Disapproval written all over her face, fuck. She must think I'm like a side piece or something. “I’ll explain later, but first food. I’m starving, and Blondie has never had a home-cooked guisado.”
He rubs his hands together, looking like a starved man as he winks. My stomach flutters from anxiety as I walk through the door, and the warmth radiating inside relaxes me. My eyes scan the small entrance, so quaint and homey. So many pictures, when I notice something that catches my attention and raises my suspicion.
