Lance releases Dax, narrowing his eyes at Stitch.
“Want me to deal with her, boss?” Stitch asks, his boney fingers digging into my shoulders.
“Since when do I want you to deal with anything?” Lance says bluntly. “Let her go. In what world would someone important lie for my brother? She’s just another little girl wanting daddy’s attention.”
Stitch grunts, shoving me away. I gasp, falling to my knees.
Lance grabs the scruff of Dax’s hair again. “You get out of this house. You hear me? If I find you here again, I’ll burn it to the ground.”
Lance steps away, whistling at the other two men. “Move it. We’ve got things to do.”
The three men stomp out of the house. Each step ripples the floorboards with aftershocks.
Dax slides down the wall, and I scramble to my feet in an effort to get to him.
I skid on the floor and crouch in front of him. “Dax! Are you okay?”
He coughs, winces, and holds his side. “Yeah. Just gimme a minute.”
“I’ll call my driver to take you to the hospital.”
“No. No way,” he says adamantly. “No hospital.”
“But you’re hurt.”
“There’s nothing for them to fix,” he argues. “I just keep getting hit in the same spot. It’ll heal.”
“But Dax, your health issues are more than just bruises.”
His eyes fill with pain as he whispers, “Please don’t go there.”
I bite my lip as despair washes through me. “Okay. Well, we need to get you out of this place.”
“I have to go back to the clubhouse,” he says regretfully. “It’s my only option besides sleeping outside somewhere.”
I caress the side of his face and shut my eyes with a sigh. “No, it isn’t. You’ll come back to Ashworth Estate with me. I’ll take care of you.”
Dax pulls away, but I hold the sides of his face, bringing him back to me. “Your father won’t want me there.”
I stare into his disillusioned eyes. “No, it’ll be fine. I’ll explain that you’re hurt and have no place else to go.” I exhale slowly, running the back of my hand against his cheek. “More importantly, I’ll tell my father how much you mean to me. You’re amazing, and there’s no way he can turn you away.”
Dax’s smile curves to the side. “Someone’s feeling optimistic.”
I take my hand from his cheek and gently touch the space around his ribs. “How are you feeling? Will you be okay to stand? Are you breathing okay?”
He winces, scooting his legs closer to sit up. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Been through worse.”
My heart hurts, watching him take his time to stand. I get up with him, keeping my hands on his sides.
He laughs quietly. “It’s okay. I won’t break.”
I let out a nervous laugh, instinctively running a finger under my eye, and it catches something wet. I sniff back a tear and force another laugh. “Yeah, I know. You’re Mr. Tough-guy.”
Dax takes my hand and kisses the tear-stained finger. “I’ll be okay because I have you.”
Trepidation spirals in my gut. When Dax releases my hand, I swallow hard and reach for my bracelet.
My mouth falls open when all I feel is skin.
