Page 122 of Guitars and Cages

He watched me like a hawk, pointing out cuts and scrapes when he thought I’d missed them. That cage had reopened some of the cuts that were still healing on my arms and chest; I had to clean them a couple times before Conner was satisfied. After we’d put the first-aid kit away, he tapped me on the shoulder. When I looked at him, he was frowning, and unlike the scowl, it wasn’t hot; it was sad and confused.

“So, how do we talk about starting a relationship if I’m not going to be allowed to touch you? You didn’t seem to mind earlier when we were talking. Hell, I could have sworn there were a couple times you were leaning into my hand, like you wanted me to touch you more.”

He had me there, not like I was gonna admit it to him, but I had loved the feel of his hand on my arm, in my hair. There wasn’t any possessiveness to it, like with Catfish; instead, it was soft, comforting, almost hesitant, like he was trying to figure out if he liked touching me, or if I liked being touched. I did, lots, but letting him tend the cuts was something different.

“It’s not that you can’t touch me, it’s just...you weren’t touching anywhere that was bleeding earlier.”

He bit his lip. I saw him dart his gaze away from me, and then back, rubbing his fingers together like he was nervous. “Are you sick?”

I shrugged because I didn’t have an answer one way or another; I didn’t know. Besides, not all the blood on me was my own, and that was an issue, too. “I was clean when you and Mark dragged me to the hospital, but I’ve been with Catfish a couple times since then, and I’ve fought since then, too. I need to get tested again.”

“Which won’t mean shit unless we can keep you the hell away from Catfish,” he reminded me.

I could hear his frustration over the issue and hoped he wasn’t blaming himself for me having fought. I was stubborn enough that I’d have fought anyone, just to try and show Catfish that he couldn’t control me.

“Yeah, well, for now let’s just hope staying away works, okay?”

He gave my shoulder a squeeze, and then rubbed it gently, and I wished I could close my eyes and let him keep touching and rubbing that shoulder until it turned into a full-blown massage, but I was tired and I needed to get the money to Morgan.

“I gotta go. I wanna catch Morgan before closing time.”

“Let me drive you over. You’re pale and you look shaky.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause Bigfoot tried to stomp on my head.”

“How’s your hand? I was surprised you even threw punches with it.”

“I don’t think I hurt it too much. To be honest, my side and my shoulder hurt more than that hand does, and my stomach doesn’t feel too good, either.”

“Yeah, I’m driving. Come on.”

“Bossy much?”

He grinned and picked up his keys. “Sometimes.”

I followed, ’cause what the hell else was I gonna do? Besides, I was blown away by what he’d said about wanting to have a relationship with me. I didn’t get it. Why the hell would he want a mess like me? I was still trying to figure it out when I slid into the car beside him. He glared until I buckled up, and then grinned. Seemed like he was bound and determined to pick apart all my unsafe habits. We listened to the radio as we drove, and I couldn’t help but sing along with one of the songs, which got Conner commenting that he hadn’t had the chance to hear me play.

“That’s ’cause I don’t play much anymore. I was planning on selling my guitars when Morgan didn’t need me at the bar anymore. I can’t seem to hit the chords the way I used to.”

“Doesn’t have to be perfect, I just wanna hear you play.”

I was tempted to ask why, but knowing Conner he’d have a reason I wouldn’t know how to respond to. As soon as he pulled up to the bar my stomach was in knots, worse even than it had been the night I’d run over to help find Rory. We went in through the back, since the closed sign was already on the door. We didn’t get far before running into Morgan in the kitchen, loading glasses into the dishwasher. He looked me up and down and shook his head.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I won. Here.”

I pulled the money from my pocket and held it out to him, and he studied me a minute before taking it and slipping it into his wallet. “Thanks; I’ll go down and take care of the taxes in the morning.”

I nodded, and turned to go.

“Can you play tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Good, the crowd was almost not even worth opening up for tonight.”

“Too many bars in this city,” I muttered.

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