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“Um, okay. I—I don’t think I can carry him though.”
Finn actually cracked a smile at that, although worry still reflected in his eyes. He put a knuckle under my chin. “Don’t worry about that, little dancer. We’ll get him out of the woods, and you can take over from there.”
The six of us staggered slowly back toward the Oak Park campus, slipping through the gap in the wall. Preston still seemed to be in pretty rough shape, but by midway back, Cole was walking unassisted. The guys left the two of us outside my dorm and headed off into the night, Preston supported between them.
Upstairs, I flipped on the light and led Cole into the living room. I’d been to their dorms several times by now, but this was the first time any of them had
ever been in mine, and I was acutely aware of that fact as I gestured toward the couch.
“Sit down. I’ll get my first aid kit.”
He hadn’t said a word since the fight, and he didn’t break the silence as he sank down onto the seat, draping his sweatshirt and tee over the arm.
I kicked off my shoes and darted into the bathroom, emerging a second later with the small first-aid kit that’d been stored under the sink. It was no substitute for real medical care, but unlike Preston, I didn’t think Cole actually needed that.
When I returned to the living room, I found him resting against the cushions, his head tipped back. He looked boneless and exhausted, as if the adrenaline that must’ve charged his system had taken everything with it when it left.
“You okay?” I asked softly, edging closer.
I probably should’ve gotten some kind of satisfaction out of seeing someone punch Cole in the face—something I could admit I’d daydreamed about doing more than once.
But I hadn’t liked it at all.
I’d fucking hated it.
His eyes opened, and for once, the blankness in them was completely gone. The piercing blues were more open and vulnerable than I’d ever seen them. “Yeah.”
I crawled onto the couch beside him, resting on my knees as I assessed the damage to his face. He had a swelling bruise on his right cheekbone, and there was a cut near his eyebrow on the right side. Blood had worked its way down the side of his face, mixing with the sweat on his neck. He hadn’t put his shirt back on, and the musky smell of ginger and pine clung to his skin.
“Can you turn your head toward me a little?”
He did as I asked, watching my face closely as I dabbed at the blood on his temple, cleaning up the wound as best I could. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it didn’t seem to want to stop bleeding. Eventually, I just held a piece of gauze to it, hoping the pressure would help staunch the flow.
“Have you ever… have you ever hurt somebody that bad before?”
My words were quiet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer.
He didn’t say anything, just kept gazing at me. But his silence told me plenty.
“Have you ever killed someone?”
His brows drew together at that, and my question seemed to have insulted him enough to finally draw him out of his silence.
“No. Jesus. What the fuck kind of person do you think I am?”
I decided there was no way to answer that without sounding like I was insulting him, so I shifted topics.
“Why did you want to fight Preston?”
Cole relaxed again, leaning into my touch slightly. I checked under the gauze, where the bleeding was finally slowing.
“He insulted my family. Talked shit about my sister. I won’t stand for that.”
My brows pulled together. He has a sister?
That shouldn’t have surprised me. Had I really thought I knew everything there was to know about Cole Mercer?
But what did surprise me was the warmth that spread through my chest at the way his tone changed when he mentioned her. His voice softened, becoming almost reverential, and without thinking, I reached up with my free hand to brush a few dark strands of hair off his forehead.
