Page 11 of Girl Code
“Fuck it.” Mickey muttered, slamming the bottle to her own mouth and downing a couple of harsh swigs before slapping it back down on the counter and coughing. “God, that shit is awful.”
“Tried to warn you.” Dante’s smile was smile, “Besides, I don’t think my surgeon should be drinking before she stitches me up anyway. Give me that bottle back.”
Mickey wiped at her own mouth, hating the burn of the cheap vodka in her throat as she gave it back to him, “If I’m going to stick a needle in you repeatedly, I need the liquid courage to steady my hand.”
“Ah, come on Mick. Don’t pretend you’re not going to get a little bit of joy out of this.”
Her eyes jerked to his and she gaped in horror, “What? Of course I’m not going to enjoy this! You were shot because of me. You took a bullet for me, Dante. I… I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
His dark eyes studied hers for a long moment and she wondered if he could still read her thoughts like he used to. There had been a time that this man had known every single one of her secrets. He’d been able to read her like a book. When his face softened, she had a feeling that she hadn’t hidden the truth of those final words from him at all.
She didn’t want to hurt him anymore than she already had but she was also terrified he would hurt her again too. Kissing him had brought all of it back to the surface. They hadn’t spoken in three years. They didn’t really even know each other anymore. Yet that spark between them was still there, still burning, still threatening to reduce them both to ashes if they got too close.
“I’d deserve it if you did.” Dante spoke slowly, softly, and Mickey found herself biting her lip to hold back the rush of emotions that came with his words.
“We don’t have to…”
“We do.” He cut her off. “We have to talk, Mick.”
“What I have to do is stitch you up so you stop bleeding everywhere.” She harrumphed, pretending not to see the small smirk that flickered on his handsome face.
“Then stitch me up, and while you do, I’ll attempt to stitch up what I broke as well. Deal?”
Mickey couldn’t argue. What was she going to do? Walk away? The man had taken a bullet for her. He needed stitches and he’d been standing in the bathroom apparently unable to do it to himself. She had to help him and if he wanted to talk while she did it, well, she supposed he couldn’t make anything worse than the way they’d left things three year ago.
Instead of answering, she took the bottle of vodka and poured a small stream of it onto the needle and then onto his chest. He hissed out a breath. She dipped her head to get a better angle and took a deep breath before making the first stitch.
Dante grit his teeth and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. She was almost beginning to think he’d changed his mind about talking. Perhaps the pain was so bad that he couldn’t find words. That was fine with her. But then, low and husky, his voice came and with it, all the words she’d never given him a chance to say before.
“I’m sorry, Mickey. I didn’t mean to ruin things between us. It was my fault. I know that and I understand why you were hurt, why you were angry. I even get why you needed to punish me by pushing me away. I just wish that instead of running away, you’d stayed.”
Mickey took a deep, steadying breath, refusing to look at him, “I couldn’t stay.”
“Because of Tiffani.”
She flinched when he said her best friends name. It still hurt. Somewhere, deep inside of her, the scars that she’d have sworn were fully healed, burst open with just that one word coming from his mouth.
Dante had been her first friend. Tiffani had been her best friend. It was only logical that when the two had met, they’d developed an attraction. Mickey should have seen it coming but she hadn’t. They’d each been hers and hers alone and then they’d been each other’s and she’d been so damn jealous it had nearly eaten her alive.
She’d been so jealous that she’d done the one thing she’d sworn she would never, ever do.
She’d kissed Dante. She’d let him kiss her. She’d let him take her to bed. She’d made love to him knowing full well that he wasn’t hers. She’d made herself the other woman and she’d made him into a cheater. And when she’d woken up the next morning beside him, sober and full of so much shame for what she’d done, she’d run away.
It had never occurred to her, not in the past three years, that Dante thought she blamed him for what had happened.
“Because I didn’t just betray Tiffani that night. I betrayed our friendship too.” She glanced up and saw his brows furrowed. “I didn’t blame you. I blamed myself and I thought it would be better for everyone if I took myself out of the equation so I couldn’t hurt either of you anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Dante groaned when she pulled the string tight on the next stitch. “You left because I cheated on Tiffani and you can’t abide cheating, not after what your dad put your mom through.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t blame you. I blamed myself.” Mickey bit her lip as she pierced his skin again, “I blamed myself for putting you in that position.”
“Mickey…” His voice was deep and… pitying, and she hated that it still cut her to her core.
“Don’t do that.” She whispered.
“Do what? Tell you the truth?”
“Dante.” She warned.
