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“I’m going to say this once and only once: stay the hell away from Hannah.” I wait for him to react to my threat. Shock to form in his eyes. His body to shake with fear. But none of that comes. Instead, his eyes darken, a wicked smile creeping across his face. His body shakes all right, but it’s from laughter. I pull him from the wall, slamming him back against it. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh wow. Does someone have a thing for his best friend’s little sister?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” I growl, practically spitting in his face.
“Seems it is, since the big bad Levi Dent is in the bathroom threatening me.” His smirk widens, and a disturbing chill skates down my arms. “Newsflash: I’m not gonna do that. I have big plans for Ms. Matthews. Maybe work up to your level and fuck her like a whore in the offi—”
I swing at him before I can think, making contact with his jaw. Blood spurts from his nose, splattering onto my shirt. Braydon doesn’t react or show a single ounce of pain or fear. The little fucker laughs harder.
“Did I hit a sore spot? Did you think no one knew about your private lunches? You don’t think I couldn’t smell the filth on her—”
Another hit, this time to his gut. He buckles, but I don’t allow him the chance to coddle his wound or catch his breath. “You better watch it. You say one more thing about her, you’re done. You attempt to lay one hand on her—”
“Oh, I plan on more than just one hand. I plan on ruining you. And once you’re out of the way, I’m taking your place. Get a taste of the sweet Hannah Matthews. I bet she tastes like innocence.” He licks his lips, and I lose it. My fist clenches, and I rear back. “Oh yeah, hit me again. Dig your grave some more.”
My fist plows toward his face as the door to the bathroom opens. My hand drops, and Braydon’s body slumps against the tiled wall. My breathing is heavy, my chest heaving. A man walks in. His eyes widen in shock, then makes the wise choice and walks back out. I quickly gather myself and step away from him. “Stay away from her.”
Braydon’s eyes flicker with challenge. He wipes the dripping blood from his nose, steps away from me, and walks toward the door. Before opening it, he veers around, his cold gaze fixated on me. “It was nice working with you.” His lips break out into a vile smile, leaving me uneasy as he turns back and exits the bathroom.
My hands shake with anger. My fists clench, needing to chase after him and do more damage. Make sure he heeds my warning. My eyes find my reflection in the mirror, and I stare back at the blood splattered on my shirt. My knuckles are scraped up and swelling. Fuck. A few labored breaths to force myself to calm down, then I wash my hands and do my best to erase any sign of Braydon on my clothes. Once I’ve gathered myself, I exit the bathroom.
When I return, Hannah is in a conversation with Stacey, and thankfully, Rebecca gives me the cold shoulder. I pull out my phone, my hand killing me, but shoot off a text to her. She grabs her phone and reads my message.
Me: Tell everyone you’re not feeling good and ask me to take you home.
Her eyes lift in my direction. Stacey notices her shift in attention. She goes back to her phone.
Hannah: What happened? Where did you go?
I watch her peek over at a snarling Rebecca. It’s only time before Rebecca aims and fires her ugly attitude on Hannah.
Me: We’ll talk later. Just do it. I need to get out of here.
She makes eye contact with me again and nods. I make the mistake of looking at Stacey, who’s staring curiously at me. Hannah’s phone dings again, and her expression changes.
“Who’s texting you?” Stacey asks.
“Um…it’s Braydon.” Fuck. He’s going to sell me out. I prepare to explain why I just kicked his ass in the bathroom. “He said he’s not feeling good and apologized, but he had to leave.”
More like his face is busted up.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Stacey comments, eyeing me.
“Yeah, ugh…I think whatever he has, I have it too. I’m really not feeling well either all of a sudden.” She brings her hands to her stomach. “Oh no. I think…” Her eyes find mine. “Levi, do you think you can take me home?”
That’s my girl. I stand.
“Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t feel good again? Should you see a doctor?” Dad takes note of our small commotion.
Hannah shakes her head, grabbing her purse. “No, Daddy. Sorry. I think I have to go home. I don’t want to get sick in the restaurant.”
