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It sounds so fucked up, when she says it like that. “I prefer my human contact to come through fighting. Fucking, if that’s not available.”
Bristol nods. “Is that why you freaked out when I hugged you? Because you’re scared of hugs?”
I don’t mean to snort at her like a total prick. It just happens. “When Iwhat?”
She looks at me, all sad and solemn. “You had some strong opinions about it when you came to my apartment.”
My memories of her apartment are dim. I certainly don’t remember a hug, or a meltdown. I remember pain. That’s it.
“Fine. Whatever. Tell me who hit you. Was it your fuckboy of a father? Because I’ll hunt that bastard down.”
“It wasn’t him. He’s an asshole, but he’s not violent.” She sighs, and I see how tired she is. How this appearance at the office is all a show. “It was the man who’s looking for him. He wanted to send a message through me.”
“And what’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. He caught me when I was getting off the elevator.” Bristol swallows even harder, and I will not, I willnot,take her in my arms. I won’t. Because I’ll sit down on the floor holding her and never get up again. “And anyway, Will, you can’t do this. You can’t just come into my life and control things and murder people and pretend it doesn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”
“I’m not pretending. I’m not going to settle down and have babies with you.”
Her eyes flash, and those tears get brighter. Bristol’s heartache is a slap to the face. Shouldn’t be much, but it hurts on bruised skin. “I didn’t askfor that, but okay.”
“I’m not doing that with anyone, but especially not you.”
“Will.”
“You deserve somebody better, sweetheart. I’m not that guy. I’m a monster. You don’t want me. I promise.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m coming to your place after work.”
Bristol’s hands lift, palms up, pure exasperation. “For what?”
“To figure out a plan. A different apartment. Security. Whatever’s necessary.”
“For now?”
Because tomorrow is her last day at Summit. I don’t give a fuck about her temp contract, but it’s a good excuse. It’s a good excuse to never see her again, even if the thought makes me feel hollow.
“For now.”
25
BRISTOL
At ten to five,I knock on the door to Will’s office.
He’s on the phone with one of the guys from Hughes Financial Services, but I can’t pay any attention to the words coming out of his mouth.
Fight nights. In awarehouse.
Will’s sitting there, handsome and pressed and covered in awful bruises. He carries on the conversation like none of it hurts. I know it does. It has to. He’s not made of stone.
Or maybe he is. I don’t know. I don’t know much of anything.
I know even less than I did before he told me about those boxing matches. That’s not the entire story. He didn’t discover at the age of twenty-two that he’d rather be punched than hugged. There’s no way.
And I haven’t had more time to negotiate. He only told me those things because he wanted a name.
