Page 38 of Origins
“I have taken her seriously,” Finn protested, his voice slightly more subdued.
But still, I couldn’t look at him.
“I’m not sure what she’s told you,” Finn continued, regaining his confidence, “but she’s ill. She’s under a strict treatment regimen. Sometimes she makes up things for attention…”
My heartbeat sounded louder in my ears with every cruel word. Meanwhile, Julian’s demeanor had almost turned glacial in its silent, deadly fury. He moved his hand back, barely touching my arm.
The contact was cold, but I wasn’t sure who it was from at this moment. But then the contact broke, and he stepped away from me, moving toward Finn.
“You need to leave,” Julian pointed toward the door.
Finn made a sound that was between a growl and a curse. “You can’t tell me what to do, you—”
“Now,” Julian’s voice held no argument.
I couldn’t see what was happening—Julian had purposely kept himself between us—but less than a moment later the sound of the door closing broke me from my stupor.
“Wait,” I stared at Julian’s back, disbelieving, “he actually left?”
“He had no choice,” Julian turned toward me and stepped forward, rubbing his hands over my arms clinically. “Are you hurt?”
I was staring at the wooden door, dazed, and almost missed his question. “What?”
“Let me help.” Julian lightly touched my arm as he guided my venerable form toward the living room and led me to the couch. I hardly paid attention at first, but then the pain suddenly broke through. Even though he barely touched me, the ache radiated throughout my body.
He let go of my arm at once, moving his hands until they hovered over my shoulders. He seemed afraid to touch me again, and I almost missed the contact.
His concern, though, would have been more heartwarming if not for the situation. I only wanted to be alone—to lick my wounds in peace. This was not impressive, and I couldn’t imagine what they had been thinking. I was so embarrassed that he had to see this—that he had to save me.
I was pathetic.
Besides, it was my fault, too. I had gone behind Finn’s back. If I hadn’t made him angry—
“Bianca.” Julian’s face swam in my vision. “Please, can I take a look?”
But why—if I let him do these things…if they continued to help me in these ways, I could easily become a burden and a “problem” for them now.
Julian sensed my hesitation, and suddenly there was a touch under my chin, guiding my gaze up until our eyes connected. “Bianca, it’s not your fault. You aren’t a bother.”
My breath caught—how did he know what I was thinking? And if it wasn’t my fault, then why did fury still swim deep within those deep eyes of his?
“You’re angry at me,” I observed. I had screwed this up already.
He blinked in surprise before frowning. “Not atyou.” He moved his hand as he traced his fingers over my throbbing jaw. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t anger easily…” he trailed off before continuing. “When I saw what Finn was doing—heard what he was saying—it brought back memories.”
I felt even more guilty—it wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of memories. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing you’ve done,” he said—his hand leaving my face. “Bianca, will you let me take care of you, please? It’s killing me to know that you’re hurt. It isn’t right. You deserve to have someone treat you kindly.”
He hardly knew what I deserved, yet I couldn’t hold back my tears. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
I was so ashamed. This could have all been avoided.
“Don’t cry…” Julian sounded lost. “Please, can I take care of you?”
I nodded. If it was this important to him, why would I deny him that? Even if these guys didn’t really know me yet, I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny them anything at this point.
Julian paused, waiting, and it took me a second to realize that he needed my sweater removed. I blushed, complying—thankful I had worn a tank-top. Moving was painful, so it took another long moment before I had struggled out of my sweater, and I sat there with it bundled in my lap.
