Page 116 of Jensen
She sighs, disengaging from me. I swipe at her, trying to smack the soft curve of her ass, but she darts out of the way. The look she gives me is a warning. I sink back against the wall as she disappears into the front. Their voices rise and fall. Then, she appears with a glass of bourbon in her hand, a sober expression on her face.
“Let me bandage up your knuckles,” she says, holding out the glass.
I take it. She kneels between my knees, which isn’t doing me any favors with how badly I want her right now. Brothers walks in and sinks against the window, knees braced and foot on the nearby chair. He takes a sip from the bottle of Angel’s Envy.
“Hate me any less, Jen?” he drawls.
“The verdict is out on that one.”
“Has been for a while, huh?”
I jerk my head, downing the bourbon and setting the glass aside. It’s a little bitter tonight. Della takes my hand and turns it over, studying the scabs from the other night. Fighting in the bar broke them open. Rivulets of dried blood streak my forearm.
She sighs. “You’re tore up, Jensen.”
“I’ll be alright.”
She cleans me up so carefully, I’m transfixed watching her, forgetting Brothers is even there. I’m thinking about tonight, wondering when I went from the strait-laced kid who just wanted a truck to the man who tore up the town with Brothers Boyd. It was probably a little bit after that day in the diner, when he had me thinking he wasn’t the one who fucked me up.
That was the day I officially broke it off with Holly. Of course, we fucked a few more times when I was feeling weak, but I told her to her face that I wanted out, that I resented what she’d done.
She cried and said she loved me.
But I never said it back.
My throat is tight. The room is a little hotter than before, and my head feels light, like I’m rising into the air. Down below, Della wraps my knuckles in crisp white. It looks like she’s a million miles away. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.
“You alright there?” Brothers drawls.
I look up and fall forward like a rock. She darts to her feet, arms out, but it’s Brothers who catches me.
“Easy there,” he says, laying me back in the chair.
I’m slipping into darkness. The hit must have been a hell of a lot worse, because I’m crumpling. My mouth won’t move. I’m trying to tell them I think I need a hospital, but they’re just watching me. Della has her hand over her mouth, tears streaming.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
No, this doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t matter, because my eyes are rolling back. I’m sinking into darkness as warm and soft as a summer’s day back home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DELLA
Brothers calls Angus to carry Jensen out in a fireman’s lift to his SUV parked on the curb. Guilt is a sharp knife in my ribs. I can’t stop crying. Brothers offers me a tissue, which I take, but I shoot daggers at him when he touches my arm.
“You’re so fucking evil,” I snap, wiping my nose.
“You are the umpteenth woman to tell me that,” he says, pointing to the door. I go, stepping onto the porch. He locks up and starts striding across the street.
“I’m riding with Jensen in the SUV,” I say.
He stops in the middle of the road. It seems like he wants to argue, but then he shakes his head, walking back over. I scramble down the curb as he pulls open the side door. Jensen is draped in the back seat, face slack. I slide into the opposite bench, and Brothers gets in beside me. The ceiling is short, and he’s a little hunched.
He taps the roof. The engine purrs, and we’re heading up the road.
“I don’t want to leave him until I have to,” I whisper.
He stretches his legs out, releasing a sigh.
