“Stop!” he heard Fe scream. “Stop!”
She sounded close to tears, and then she was standing between them. Between him and the stranger. Her small frame shaking as she held up both hands. “That’s enough!”
Colton came out of the crowd then, waving his arms overhead. “There’s nothing to see here, nothing to see.”
Security started pushing toward them then, and Elliot glanced over at Fe. Her arms were tight around her middle, her face white, but she looked okay. She looked okay.
Chapter 21
It was a short time later, back at Elliot’s truck, that Fe stood in front of him. Her fingers on his jaw, holding his face steady as she dabbed at his cheek. “It’s already bruising.” She cringed.
The adrenaline hadn’t faded yet, so thankfully, he wasn’t in much pain. “I’m okay,” he whispered. But he wasn’t. He was worried about her. About what would’ve happened had he not seen her. The sound of her screams still rang in his ears and scared the crap out of him.
Colton was up front in the cab, but came out a short time later and handed Elliot a couple pills.
“Here,” he said, “I suggest you take these now, or you’ll hate yourself come morning.”
Elliot took the pills from his brother’s hand, and swallowed them without water. “Why did you leave her?” Elliot asked.
It was a conversation he’d meant to have at home. When they were alone, and Fe wasn’t around to hear it. But he was so angry, he couldn’t think straight.
“I didn’t leave her. It was all part of the plan; don’t you get it?”
Elliot turned toward his brother, his eyes narrowing. “What plan?”
Colton cocked a tiny grin. “To get you into a fight. Worked too.” He rolled back on his heels.
Elliot stood from the tailgate, his hands curling into fists at his side. “What did you just say?”
“Elliot, stop,” Fe pleaded.
“You mean to tell me you put Fe in danger on purpose?”
Colton laughed and crossed his arms at his chest. “She was never in danger, Elliot. That guy is my friend.”
Elliot shoved Colton. “She has anxiety, you know that?”
Colton stumbled backward.
“It gets worse when she’s in crowds, and you let that guy put his hands all over her.” He shoved him again.
Colton dug his boots into the gravel and braced himself. His fists clenched, and ready for a fight. “That’s right.”
“You fucking asshole!” Elliot shoved him again, this time harder, but Colton only budged a couple inches.
Fe placed her hand on Elliot’s bicep, grabbed hold of his arm and trying to pull him back. “Elliot, stop!”
“I’m fucking sick of it! You think you can just come in here, play your stupid games?”
“Maybe.”
“Not with her! You can play with me, but not with her!” His voice was guttural, charged with emotion, and he ran toward his brother.
Fe screamed. “STOP! Elliot stop!”
His body was shaking, but he forced himself to turn around, because he couldn’t bear to hear her scream like that. Not again.
Her lips were quivering as she stepped toward him. “I knew about it, Elliot. The guy’s name was Jim—” She closed her eyes before opening them again. “It was all part of the plan.”
His breath left him. Like he was punched in the gut all over again. “What?” He stammered out.
Colton’s voice rang in his ears. “It was my idea. Not hers.”
Elliot pushed both hands through his hair, and turned toward the street. All anger was gone, replaced with something much more painful. Betrayal. Hurt. Embarrassment. Fatigue washed over his body, and his head began to pound. He sat down on the tailgate, feeling Fe’s small hand rest on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I—“
But he shrugged away from her. “Don’t be sorry. Your plan worked, didn’t it.” He looked down to his side, where Fe stood, her brows knit together, but dark circles now replaced where her makeup had once been.
“It didn’t work,” she practically yelled. “I got in over my head, and when I saw you—“ Her eyes flashed to her feet, and she turned toward the empty parking not.
“When you saw me what?” He took hold of her arm and forced her around to face him.
Her head was tipped back meet his, strong and stubborn, but there was a single tear on her cheek that made his heart ache. “I was relieved, okay! I wanted you to save me. I wanted you to take me out of there.” Her lips trembled. “When I saw you across the club, I wanted to stop you, to tell you everything, but it was too late.”
He nodded. Wanting desperately to catch her tear with his finger tip. To pull her into his arms and hold her tightly to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Colton walked toward them then, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “You’re not mad at me, are you brother?”
Elliot shook his head, because he didn’t know what he felt anymore. Part of him was angry, part sad, part hurt. “Let’s just go home.” He looked from Fe to Colton, The metallic taste of his own blood still fresh in his mouth. “Let’s just go home.”
Chapter 22
Fe glanced into the passenger window at Elliot’s reflection, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He hadn’t said a word since they all got in the truck. Actually, no one had. Both Prescott boys were sitting up front, and she’d been watching them from the back seat for the last fifteen minutes.
She should have trusted her gut and walked away before it was too late, but Colton had been so confident, so damned convincing, she went along with his plan.
Most mistakes she’d made in her life were chocked up to learning experiences and never thought of again, but she knew tonight would be one she never forgave herself for. Because the look on Elliot’s face when he came to rescue her would haunt her for the rest of her life. He looked like a warrior. A savage yet passionate warrior whose only mission in life was to protect her. The fact that she’d been reckless with that passion made her want to throw up.
But he didn’t look angry anymore, didn’t look sad, or any way in particular at all—but at the same time, there was something missing about him. The light-hearted Elliot. The fun-loving man she’d spent nearly every day with for the last five years. What was she doing? What had she done?
Colton pulled the truck beside the front of the building, and Fe climbed out of the cab needing the fresh air to breathe. She’d never felt like this in the open before, like the walls were closing in on her, like she did when she was having an attack.
Colton stepped out of the truck beside her, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. “Do you have a minute?” he asked, low and soft, and too close to her ear.
It was nearly one in the morning, the road was almost completely silent, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Elliot was already walking toward their apartment, and by the set of his shoulders, she knew he needed his space.
She looked back to Colton, hugging herself tighter. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I didn’t know he’d take things so seriously.”
She closed her eyes “Elliot takes everything seriously.”
“Especially when it come to you.”
She adjusted her feet, squeezing her middle until it was almost painful.
“I knew he was protective of you. I didn’t know how much.”
Her nose burned, and she met his eyes. “And we made a game of it.”
“Fe, there’s no way we could have known—“
She turned toward the apartment. “I should have known. Maybe not you, but I—should have known.”
Her fingers were numb when she turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. All the lights were out, and the apartment was exactly the same as when they’d left it. Elliot must have come inside, went straight to his room, and closed the door. Shutting himself in. Shutting her out.
She entered the bathroom quietly, splashed cool water on her face, then looked into the mirror. Black eye makeup surrounded her eyes, running down her cheeks in harsh streaks like she’d been crying. Her hair, which was normally brushed and soft, was now teased, and wild, and unruly.
She didn’t recognize herself. Not only the face that stared at her, but the woman inside. The one who danced with a man she barely knew, who would play games with the heart of her best friend. She picked up the bar of soap, fighting with an emotion that was making her shake. She franticly scrubbed the bar over her face, wanted all of it gone. The makeup, the hair, the clothes. She wanted it all gone. To erase tonight, to erase the pain she’d caused.
The harder she scrubbed, the more emotional she became, and the harder she shook. Eventually the makeup was gone, her hair was brushed out, but she didn’t feel any better.
What was happening to her?
When she opened the door to the bathroom, an oversized bathrobe tied at her waist, she glanced out into the apartment. She could see right away that Colton wasn’t there. Maybe he was cooling off, or maybe giving her space to do the same, she didn’t really care. It wasn’t fair to blame him, but she wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet either.
There was no sound coming from Elliot’s room, but a faint glow from under the door told her he was awake. She walked over to the cool surface, placed her hand on the door, and flattened it. “Elliot, can we talk?”
He didn’t answer, and frankly, she didn’t blame him. It was a selfish request she was making, a selfish life that she was living.
After a minute with no answer, she flattened her back against the door, and turned toward her bedroom. “Come in.” His voice came hesitant and soft, and sent a shiver down her spine.
She whipped around, her heart in her throat as she grabbed the handle and twisted. In almost darkness, he lay in his bed with his shirt off. His jaw tight, his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose, and a falling apart copy of The Hobbit laying amongst his blankets.
Her legs shook as she stepped toward him, so nervous, she could hardly keep herself upright. He propped higher on his pillows, bracing himself on his elbows waiting for her to speak.
“Can I sit?” she asked, swallowing hard.
He glanced down her body, over her robe that was so tight she could barely breathe.
“Go ahead,” he said softly.
“I just—” she stammered out. “I wanted to apologize.”
He glanced down to his book again, dismissing her. “It’s over. There’s no need to apologize now.”
She shook her head, not wanting him to let her off that easy. Not wanting him to be nice to her after what she’d done to him. “No.” She shook her head. “I need to explain. I need to tell you what happened.”
He looked up, his face showing how hurt he was.
“Please let me,” she whispered. “Please.”
He removed his glasses, as though they caused him immense pain and set them on the table. He took a breath, closed his book, and peered up at her. Like a perfect storm, his eyes showed the twisting and twirling that was going on inside him.
Now was her moment. To say all she needed to say, but she couldn’t. So many things were running through her head that she couldn’t think straight. “I—I don’t know what’s happening. That wasn’t me.” She waved a hand behind her to the bathroom, where she’d washed off her makeup less than five minutes ago. “That—wasn’t me.”
She shook her head, fighting against the tears climbing up the back of her throat. She was trying to keep some humility. To maintain her integrity and keep her voice from wobbling but it wasn’t working. “I don’t know if I got caught up in the moment, or too caught up with this stupid plan, but I’m so sorry.”
Her chin was wobbling, and all she wanted to do was grab hold of it and make it stop, but she didn’t. She allowed him to see how scared she was. How much the fact she’d hurt him shook her. Because he deserved that. At the very least. “I think it needs to stop. All of it.”
His eyes narrowed, as though he was having a hard time understanding what she was trying to tell him. “What needs to stop?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath. “The steps. The eight steps. If it wasn’t—“ Her words silenced, and she glanced up at him again. “It was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.”
He tilted his head, analyzing her with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure it was the stupidest.”
There was the tiniest bit of teasing in his voice, and it was like music to her ears. “It was, Elliot. It is. And I’m afraid if we continue, I’ll lose my best friend.”
He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, threw his pillow to the ground, and pulled her into his arms. “You won’t lose me, Fe. Shit, how could you even say that?”
“How can you be so sure?” Her body was shaking, but she wrapped her arms around him, and took the comfort he offered her.
“Because I’m right here. And I’ll always be here.” His voice was raw, textured, and she could feel it in her gut.
“That’s not true.” She pressed the side of her face against his chest, allowing herself to feel his heart pounding against her cheek. “People always say that, but it’s not true. There comes a point in every relationship when there are too many wounds. Wounds that turn into scars that Band-Aids won’t fix anymore. And we’ve been fighting so much lately, about things we would have never fought about before. I’m afraid that if we continue…” She wiped over her nose, then pushed away from him just enough to allow herself a view of his face. His eyes were open, bright, studying here like he had no idea where all this was coming from.
“I think the best thing to do is to stop. My brothers will understand if I cancel. I’ll just say something came up—it’ll be better that way—things will get better—“
He pressed one finger to her lips, stopping her. “What?” He paused for a moment, as though her words were still processing through his mind. “Why were your brother’s expecting us?”
She swallowed. “Football.”
“Football?”
“It’s the eighth step.” She shook her head, and wrapped her arms around her body again. “But like I said, I’m going to cancel. Mary will be back in ten days, and most girls don’t like football anyway.”
A frown transformed his features, but he looked more relaxed when he lifted his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play football.”
She laughed. “No, no you have not. No.”
“Sure I have.” He flashed her one of his adorable grins. “Ever since I was a little boy.”
“Elliot.” She closed her eyes. “We can’t.”
He grabbed hold of her arms, squeezing them until she opened her eyes again. “Come on. You’ve never been a quitter. Why start now?”
He was trying to make her feel better, to ease her guilt for tonight…and sure enough, it was working. “Elliot, I’m trying to be serious.”
“So am I.”
He was looking her dead in the eye, his face open and honest. Who was she to deny him anything. “I don’t know…”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“My brothers tackle you within an inch of your life?”
He laughed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She let out a tiny laugh, cupped his cheek in her palms, and kissed his lips. Softly, just a peck. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move from her grasp. “Is that a yes?”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh, or cry, so instead she nodded. “Yes.”
Chapter 23
Prying himself out of bed, Elliot let his head lull back to his shoulders, and thanked his past self for having the foresight to call in sick today. His head hurt, his face hurt, and every muscle in his body felt like he had been in some sort of dramatic accident. He braced himself on the side of the bed, hands cradling his aching scull as he reached for his glasses
.
If it wasn’t for his physical condition, he would have thought last night had been a nightmare. But it was real. The fight, the bruises, but most of all, Fe coming into his room and trembling in his arms. He’d never seen her like that. Raw, fragile, broken. It was hard for him to watch.
Yes, he had every right to be angry with her, but he couldn’t blame Fe for what happened. If Colton hadn’t gotten involved, they would have never been there in the first place.
Elliot pushed himself to stand, cringing at the pain that shot through his body, and walked out of his room.
Colton had to go. Yes, he was his brother, and yes, family was important, but he’d already been more than hospitable. It had been a two weeks. Fourteen days he put up with his disruption, and now it was time he found another couch to sleep on.
Fe’s bedroom door was open, her room empty, which meant she’d already left for work that morning. Good. He didn’t need her around to witness this. He walked into the bathroom, where on the floor by the sink, her bathrobe was left crumpled. Like she’d stepped out of it in her rush to get ready this morning. Bending down, he hooked the fabric with his finger, then held it in a fist at his chest. A rush of adrenaline washed over his body as he remembered how she felt in his arms last night. How her body shook, and she was so close to tears. He closed his eyes, and resisted the urge hold the fabric to his face. To inhale the scent of her that always reminded him of fresh laundry, sun, and honeysuckles.
Forcing himself to hang the robe on the back of the door, he braced both hands on the side of the sink and stared at his reflection. He didn’t look half as bad as he’d expected. There was a bruise on his left cheek where he’d been punched in the face, but under the mask of his shadow, it was hardly noticeable. He stretched his mouth open, assessing the cut on his lip, then pinched the bridge of his nose.
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