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My eyes flew open and I immediately pulled away. Her swollen, puckered lips searched for mine before those gorgeous eyes of her fell open. The flush had worked its way down her neck. What I wouldn't give to kiss it all the way down her breasts. Give her the time of her fucking life. But, Benji. She was just like Benji. Innocent and intelligent.
She had no business being wrapped up in the kind of life I led.
I mean, for crying out loud, I’d just been shot at! This beautiful girl, with her eyes holding my gaze and her soft hands cupping my cheeks, had a bright and bountiful future ahead of her. One that would be productive to society. One that would be filled with light and love and laughter and good feelings.
Getting tangled up in me would rob her of all that.
“Max?” she asked breathlessly.
I swallowed back a groan at the way she said my name. I watched her search my face, her beautiful eyes darting between my own. Searching for something I knew she wouldn't find. My hands slid from the door. I gripped her waist and removed my knee, easing her down to the ground. With all the pain in my body amounting to nothing but misery, I kept my grip on her. Tight. I moved her where I wanted her, over to the dorm bed in the corner, and hoisted her up. She squealed as I lifted her with my bare hands, settling her against the edge.
Then, I backed myself toward the door, making sure she didn’t follow me.
“I still need to check--”
“Stay away from me, Danika. You know you need to.”
And after watching confusion roll behind her twinkling eyes, I opened the door behind me and slipped out.
17
Dani
Three Weeks Later
I poked at the roasted chicken meal on my plate as I gazed around the dining room. I’d been looking forward to this long Labor Day Weekend for days now. I missed home whenever I came to college. Even though it was a nice escape. And being home for the long weekend felt, well, like home.
Something felt off, though.
I slid my eyes along the pastel walls topped with white crown molding and a median separator that glided along the wall. The white tiled floor of the dining room had a navy rug spread out underneath the kitchen table to unite the rest of the room. At least, that’s what Mom said it did. The silverware on the table glistened, even after its use was complete. The crystal glasses that shone with ice water made me cock my head.
I never noticed before how much everything had its place in our house.
“Princess?” Dad’s voice ripped me from my trance.
“Yes?”
“Something wrong with your food?”
I looked down at my plate and noticed how messy it had become. The peas were mixed in with the mashed potatoes. The skin of the chicken had been stripped and ripped into pieces by my own doing. The chicken had grown lukewarm and dry with the air being exposed to it. And the fruit salad I had in a bowl just above the plate sat untouched, marinating in its own juices.
“Yes, sorry. Just thinking about some things,” I said.
Mom put her fork down. “Want to talk about it, sweetie? You’ve been very distracted since you got home Friday evening.”
The torn meat of the chicken reminded me of the bullet wound. My gosh, Max had been grazed by a bullet. I looked up at the picture hanging on the wall. A beautiful picture of flowers in a meadow. But the red was all that jumped out at me. It reminded me of the red that had dotted Max’s split lip. The dried blood against his skin I'd cleaned away with the alcohol wipe. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Even at home, where I felt most at ease, he invaded my dreams.
Leaving his motor oil scent in my nostrils to wake up to.
“Danika.”
My father’s voice grew stern and it made me jump.
“Your mother’s speaking to you.”
I nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. It’s just…”
I placed my fork down and turned to my mother.
