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She sighs. “Hayes.”
“I said I’ve got it,” I snap, clenching my fist, only to feel a shard of glass cut through my palm. “Motherfucker!”
Releasing it, I shake my hand off and the glass falls back onto the bar top. Blood starts to trickle out of the freshly made cut and down my hand. Before I can tell her no, Laiken is behind the bar, grabbing a towel and pressing it to the wound.
“Clearly, you don’t got it,” she says tartly.
I watch as she carefully cleans up the rest of the glass and wipes the counter down to make sure she didn’t miss any small pieces. When she’s done with that, she turns to face me.
“Where’s the first aid kit?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
But she’s not taking that as an answer. She looks around and sees one of the bartenders we hired for the night and asks him instead. He reaches under the counter and pulls it out, handing it to her as she thanks him.
I roll my eyes the moment I see the triumphant grin on her face. Putting the kit on the counter, she takes out some antiseptic spray and a bandage. Once she’s got everything she needs, she nods over to the bathroom.
“Go rinse it out,” she tells me.
“I told you, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
Not listening to a word I have to say right now, she gathers the things and grabs my wrist, pulling me along with her. The feeling of her fingers wrap around me is so much more powerful than it should be. It’s enough to make me obey her every fucking word.
I stay completely still as she turns on the water and puts my hand under it. A sharp sting shoots through my hand and I hiss instinctively.
“Don’t be such a baby,” she says softly.
God, I hate this.
I hate how the sound of her voice could rock me to sleep at night. I hate how she has the ability to make me feel so many things at once. And I hate how she has me wrapped around her finger, even after everything she’s done.
But most of all, I hate that she’s not mine.
Not anymore.
She’s moved on. Found her own Prince Charming who probably deserves her a hell of a lot more than I do. But that doesn’t mean a part of her won’t always belong to me.
A part of her I’m never going to fucking give up.
We move into the back room for her to finish cleaning up my hand. My eyes stay locked on Laiken as she carefully dries my palm, blowing softly on it like the goddamn temptress that she is. I try my best to ignore it, but I can’t. And when she finally puts the bandage into place and looks up at me, my restraint slips just a little bit more.
“So, you want to tell me why you’re so pissed off all of a sudden?” She asks. “You were fine when I got here. What happened?”
I move my eyes to the floor. “It’s nothing. Nothing happened.”
“Becausethatsounded convincing.”
Son of a bitch. Why does this have to be so hard? So complicated? Why can’t we just go back to the times when all that mattered was the two of us? All I want is to go into our little bubble again and escape the world.
But she popped that bubble when she made her midnight escape.
“Lai,” I say, finally looking at her.
Before I can say anything else, her phone dings again, and my jaw clamps shut. She pulls it out, looking at it for a second, and then slips it back into her pocket with a small smile. And the last part of me that could handle this dies inside.
“You know, the least you could do is not text your boyfriend in front of me,” I sneer, taking a step toward her.
Her brows furrow, probably wondering how I figured it out, since she’s never mentioned him in front of me. I’m assuming that’s for a reason. Either she wanted to see if there was still a chance for us, keeping him on the back burner, or she didn’t want to rub her happiness in my face while my life is falling apart.
