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Huh.
I check the bed and it’s empty. She must be using the bathroom. I dart to my closet and hunt out the things I need, trying to be quick. But as I’m crouched down in front of my shoebox full of socks, I hear the door click shut behind me.
Crap. She’s back.
And she mustn’t have seen me behind the closet door.
I need to make myself known, but…
Glancing over my shoulder, I’m about to clear my throat when she drops the towel around her. My lips part, and taking my eyes off her is now an impossible task. There she is, standing naked in my room. I can’t help checking her out. My eyes are glued to her smooth skin, trailing down her body from the edge of her shoulder, over her pert little tits, and down the planes of her stomach. The crop of dark hair between her legs makes my dick start to pulse, but my eyes keep going until I’m all the way to the bottom of her slender legs. Some would call her skinny—she seriously must be only 10 percent body fat. I know chicks who strive for that kind of thing, but I’m guessing Rachel probably complains about her protruding bones, calling herself gangly or?—
She starts to turn toward me, and I brace myself for what is no doubt going to be an awkward conversation.
But then I see it.
Her perfectly smooth skin is mottled on the left side. Black-and-blue bruises speckle her torso and legs. There’s a graze on her hip, but the worst of the damage is around her stomach and upper thigh.
“Holy shit.” I can’t help my whisper as I stand tall and gape at the damage.
She gasps and whips her head to look at me, her eyes wide and scared as I move toward her. There are more bruises on her arm, one up near her shoulder.
“Who did this to you?” I’m trying to keep my voice even, but it’s an effort. Anger is circling my core, spiraling like a thick whirlpool as I drink in her injuries and imagine how they were inflicted.
She turns her back to me, but that just exposes a boot-shaped mark on the edge of her spine.
“Someone kicked you,” I rasp, skimming my fingers, featherlight, over the nasty imprint.
She spins around, her green eyes glistening with a mix of pain and fear.
Someone fucking kicked her! Someone put that expression on her face.
Breaths spurt out of me as I work to control the rage firing through me. I have no time for assholes who hurt their women. I grew up experiencing that shit, and I can’t believe Rachel is standing here shaking the same way my mom used to.
I reach for her hand, needing to touch her, comfort her, let her know this will all be okay.
But she shies away from me.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I promise, my voice raw with emotion. “I would never hurt you.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes.
“But I want to disembowel the guy who marked you like this. Was it Theo?”
She dips her chin, her body starting to tremble.
Shit, she’s still standing there naked… almost like she needs me to see it. Like deep down she wants someone to know.
And she’s trusting me with this truth.
I guarantee Mikayla doesn’t know yet. She was way too calm when she brought her empty cocoa mugs back to the kitchen last night. Ethan hugged her while she rinsed them out, and I heard her tell him that poor Ray was exhausted.
“She’s such a soft, sweet soul, you know? Breakups suck anyway, but it’s her first love. She’s devastated.”
I bet she is.
Devastated that the guy she’s supposed to trust, the one she moved in with and gave her body to, turned on her. He showed his true, dark colors, and it probably shocked the hell out of her.
I remember the first time Dad lost it with my mama. She never saw it coming, and she was horrified and heartbroken.
