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Chapter 3
Kincaid~
Having opted to not attend classes today, my phone has been busy as hell all day long. Hastings, Rylee, and Sutton have been texting nonstop to check on me, and I’ve even received a few texts from Stone and Ross. Of course, Saxton’s been on my ass all day, but a lot of that was appreciated.
The news of August Remington’s death had spread like a wildfire. Though I haven’t checked any of my social media accounts today, Saxton had warned me that August’s death was all that anyone was talking about. With the media a concern, Mr. Voss had managed to send out the word that if anyone from any of the media outlets harassed the HU campus, there’d be hell to pay. However, that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be around. Loitering and harassing were two very different things, after all.
So, back at my condo, I was laying low. My parents had already flown out after our ‘talk’ this morning, and though my mother had tried to talk some more sense into me, my father had been wise enough to see the writing on the wall. A part of him didn’t want to know what I was up to, but another part wanted to stand back and see what I was capable of. After all, I was the one who was going to take over his empire one day.
The only thing that I found odd about today was how I hadn’t heard from Alexander. Sure, it could be argued that he’d go through Saxton since it was Saxton who was ‘responsible’ for me, but I knew that Alexander had the right to talk with me privately if he so chose to. There was no doubt that a meeting would be called soon, but I still half-ass expected him to show up at my place. After all, we also had our little side-deal going in addition to everything else. Plus, if Alexander George thought that killing August would redirect my priorities, he was wrong.
So, with my parents gone, everyone attending their classes, and Alexander nowhere in sight, I had spent the day using my pent-up energy on working out. I did it regularly anyway, but today’s workouts were for peace of mind more than a benefit for my body and health. The fight with August had been brutal, and I needed to work on learning how to protect myself from the move that I hadn’t anticipated.
That was another thing. Though my body had a few bruises sporadically scattered about my person, it was my face that really looked bad. I had a black eye, a bruise lining the edge of my jaw, and small gash running across my right eyebrow, the same eye that was blackened. Granted, I could have looked way worse, but if anyone didn’t already know that it was me who had killed August, my battered face would be a clue enough.
Not that I cared, mind you.
Luckily, Hastings had left some of her pampering shit here when she had moved in with Saxton, so after the workouts all day, my body aching, and my face looking like I’d fought a gorilla and lost, I was soaking in the tub, bubbles up to my neck, a peppermint facemask sheet redesigned to not cover the gash above my eye, and classical music filling my ears.
Apollo and Saxton were the only two people who knew that about me. I loved classical music during my highs and lows. Normally, I listened to whatever song caught my ear. I didn’t have a preference in music. I liked what I liked, though my tastes did seem to lean more towards classic metal more than anything else.
However, when I was in a place where I was opened to experience my emotions, classical music was my jam of choice. I had no idea what it was about the instrumental music that calmed my crazy thoughts or rushing emotions, but it did. Right now, I was feeling a low, but it felt like a dangerous low, like the calm before the storm. Maybe it was because I was finally moving forward with finding out what happened to Apollo. Still, whatever it was, I was feeling too relaxed. Especially, considering that I’d just killed someone last night.
There was also the fact that I hadn’t heard from Fox all day, though it was more expected than alarming. After all, the guy’s endgame was to end up on the Supreme Court one day. If that day ever comes, his entire life would be scrutinized, and dating a girl who killed a Remington once upon a time was not a good look. I couldn’t imagine his parents taking our associating very well if they even knew. I had no idea what Fox’s parents thought of me, but I couldn’t imagine it was anything good. They’d known about our relationship three years ago, and no parents could like the person who had broken their child’s heart. Especially, considering that Fox’s younger brother was a dickhead. Cotton Harrington was a class-A douchebag, and all of Walter and Ireland Harrington’s future hopes rested with Fox making a name for himself, not Cotton.
Never Cotton.
Not wanting to think about it, I closed my eyes and let the music do its thing. There was a special kind of power in shutting out the world. Never afraid or ashamed of who I was, it didn’t bother me to be alone. I didn’t need people around me to distract me from my choices or the discomfort that sometimes looked back at me through a mirror.
However, my hiatus came to an end when I heard the distinct sounds of the front door opening, then closing. Since I’d been alone, there’d been no need to shut the bathroom door or the bedroom door. Plus, I wasn’t playing the music up high. I’d been enjoying it as a low hum in the background.
I also knew that it wasn’t Saxton or Hastings. They would have called out for me by now. I smiled at the memory of Saxton walking in on me dressing when we’d been nine-years-old, and it had traumatized him enough to never do it again. The guy always knocked or called out for me before entering my private space. The funny thing was that I’d been half-dressed already. My shirt had covered my thighs, but the boy had been traumatized, not caring that my clothes had covered me. He’d been upset over invading my privacy, no matter what I’d been doing.
With my eyes still closed, I could feel him the minute he walked in the bathroom. That was the funny thing about being so in-tuned with someone. You could actually feel them. It wasn’t just this dramatic thing that books and movies used to intensify the connection between the two main characters. When you found your soulmate, you could feel that shit.
“How are you feeling?”
I finally opened my eyes and saw Fox lowering the toilet seat cover before sitting down. Though he was close enough to have a conversation with, he still felt too far away. He also looked gorgeous, but to be fair, he looked like that every day. That dark hair, those keen hazel orbs of his, his rock-hard body…all of it just worked.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
His jaw clenched when he got a good look at the visible areas of my face. “Yeah? What else is underneath that facemask that you consider fine?”
“They’re just bruises, Fox,” I said, doing my best to reassure him. “The worst of it is the gash over my eyebrow. The rest of it is just bruising.”
“Show me,” he instructed, and though his voice was low, I knew it for the demand that it was.
Reaching up, I removed the facemask, then cupped some water in my hands to rinse off the residue. Then I sunk beneath the water, rising with my head back, so that he could see my entire face. My dark hair had been hanging around my face, and I wanted Fox to see that the damage really was minimal, considering that I had fought with a grown-ass man.
When I looked over at him, I thought I’d see anger in his eyes, maybe some concern or sympathy. I thought I’d get a lecture on safety, locked doors, stubbornness, or any number of other things really. As far as I was concerned, Fox had the right to yell at me just like Saxton or my parents did.
However, that’s not what I was seeing.
“I said, show me,” he gritted between his clenched teeth and the low rumble had me already clenching with need.
Heat slithered down my spine as I did what he asked. Bracing my hands on either side of the tub, I pushed myself up until I was standing in the middle of the tub, bubbles and water sluicing down my naked body. His eyes raked me from head to toe, and I could feel myself starting to pant when Fox stood up and made his way towards the tub.
I watch silently as he used his hands to wipe away the bubbles that covered parts of my body. For whatever reason, Fox wanted to see every scrape, every bruise, and every wound. Did he want to punish himself for my mulishness? I mean, what would be the point of inspecting every bruise?
“What are you doing, Fox?” I asked, looking up at him.
“I want to see every mark that motherfucker put on you,” he answered, his hands still wiping off the bubbles.
“Why?”
His eyes locked onto mine. “Because it’s easier to be mad at him than it is to be mad at you,” he replied honestly, and his words cut me deep. “And I’m so fucking mad at you, Kincaid.”
Stepping out of the tub, I made my way to the shower, and Fox stood in the middle of the bathroom as I took a proper shower, showing him everything. Halfway through, he started removing his clothes, and I prayed it was to join me in the shower.
I didn’t think I could wait for him to carry me into the bedroom.
