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He advanced, fury pinching his face. He raised his arm again.
The door burst open. Chet stormed inside and grabbed Aaron’s forearm. He twisted the arm behind Aaron’s back then slammed him against the wall. “Mia, call the police.” Worry softened his words, but he kept his body tight. His muscles rigid. “Are you okay?”
Fumbling for her phone, she nodded.
“Get off me,” Aaron shouted. “Mia’s not calling anyone. I’m her boyfriend, you idiot.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she clarified.
Chet glanced at her with raised brows but didn’t loosen his hold. “This the asshole?”
She nodded.
“Oh, she’s definitely calling the police,” Chet said, his voice more like a low growl. “Then she’s charging you with assault.”
* * *
The television droned on,the flickering of scenes lost on Chet. Rich women from some city screamed at each other for some petty reason or another—all just noise in the background. He’d never understand the draw of these types of shows, but he’d wanted Mia to be comfortable and had begrudgingly handed over the remote.
Unable to keep his attention off her, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. A purple bruise had bloomed at the corner of her lip. An angry red mark from Aaron’s hand surrounded her mouth. Hot anger rolled through him. He circled his fingers over one wrist, ringing his hand over and over until his tendons screamed.
“Stop watching me.” Mia sat with her knees pressed to her chest, feet bare, and a blanket wrapped over her slim shoulders. She watched the chaos exploding on the screen as she scolded him.
“Well I can’t watch whatever this crap is.” He flicked his wrist toward the television mounted above the fireplace. “How is it fun to watch people fight?”
Grinning, she shrugged. “It’s mind-numbing. I can just turn off my brain and not think and get lost in someone else’s drama for a little bit.”
“Hmm,” he said, shifting his focus to the show. “Never thought about it like that. Laurie used to watch this show.”
“It’s like cat nip.” Mia picked up her wine glass and took a sip.
He didn’t keep wine at his place, never drank the stuff, but she’d grabbed a bottle from her place after the police had hauled off Aaron and taken her statement. She’d trembled the entire time, and he was proud as hell that she’d stood her ground. He’d witnessed enough domestic abuse cases to know how difficult it was for some women to stand up to their abusers. To press charges and do everything they could to stop the person hurting them.
Now, Aaron could sit in a jail cell until everything was sorted. His job was to be here for Mia. Even if that meant watching shitty TV. “Can I get you anything?”
A commercial came on, and she shifted so her back was pressed against the arm of the couch. “I’m good.”
“Feeling okay?”
She lifted her fingertips to her cracked lip and winced. “Fine.”
“You’re swelling a little. You need ice.” He jumped to his feet and found a plastic bag stuffed in a drawer. He filled it with ice, wrapped a towel around the bag, then brought it to her. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks,” she said, gently placing the cloth on her mouth. She tensed then extended one leg, tucking her foot under her knee.
He lowered back down on the couch, sitting a little closer to Mia than he had been. He was drawn to her like a magnet, needing to do whatever he could to make her feel better. “Has he ever hit you before?”
“No.” She shifted the cream-colored blanket to cover her lap.
Her answer surprised him. If he’d have just gone with her to pack, Aaron wouldn’t have hit her tonight either. But the energy between them had sizzled so hot, he’d been relieved when she’d left him alone for a few minutes. He found himself blurting out so many unexpected things around her, like he couldn’t control the filter between his brain and his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You showed up again, my knight in shining armor. I still can’t believe he found me. That he thought I’d just let him talk his way out of everything he did and just pick up where we left off.” She swapped her ice for the wine and took another sip.
“Was he always a dick?” He shouldn’t pry but couldn’t help himself. How did a relationship unravel? How could someone hide their true colors for so long?
Sighing, she shook her head. “Aaron is a textbook narcissist. Obviously, that’s something I didn’t realize until I was already sucked into his toxic vortex. When we first met, he swept me off my feet. Literally. It was raining and I slipped on a wet patch of cement. He came out of nowhere and caught me. From that moment on, he made it his mission to take care of me.”
Chet ran his tongue over his teeth, his insides twisting. Her description of her previous relationship didn’t sound like something she regretted, which made the glaring marks he put on her face even uglier. “Sounds like a peach.”
