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“Why?” I ask. I won’t tell him no. Fighting is a skill every man should know—it’s a skill every person should know. So if Ian wants to learn, I’ll teach him. Fuck, I’ll get Heather to teach him. “Is someone fucking with you?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s Enzo’s dad.” My brows flick up again.
“Enzo’s dad,” I repeat and he nods, then scrubs his hand over his face. “You want to fight his dad?”
“He just—” He lets out a sharp sigh. “When Enzo was changing, I saw—” He lets out another breath, red creeping up his neck and face. “I saw burn marks. Like, cigarette burns.” He rests his hand on his ribs, indicating the spot he saw the burns, and I clench my jaw at the words. “I didn’t know things were that bad, and I just want his dad to pay. I just—he hurt my best friend, you know? I want to hurt his dad for hurting him.”
“I get that,” I say, chewing on my lip. “Enzo’s staying here for a while, yeah?” Ian’s face falls.
“He’s still talking about leaving,” he mumbles.
“And you think fighting his dad will make him stay?” I ask gently, and he shrugs.
“If you won’t help, I’ll figure something else out.” His voice comes out too sharp, too much like his mother’s, and I nearly laugh.
“I didn’t say I won’t help.” I grin at him, then lift my eyes behind him, finding Kennedy shuffling down the hall, her hand on the wall, the other wrapped around her middle. “I’ll help you, okay? Later, though.” I rush past him, grabbing her hips to stop her. She glares up at me, and I’ve never been so turned on before. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to the kitchen,” she says.
“I told you to stay in bed.”
“And you’re not the boss of me,” she hisses. I smirk, my hands tightening on her hips in warning.
“Are you sure?” I ask, lowering my voice. “I remember you enjoyed obeying me.” She growls, and shoves at my chest. I step to the side, but keep my arm wrapped around her waist as I help her shuffle toward the couch.
“Why are you home?” she asks Ian.
“Leave the kid alone,” I say, gently pushing her onto the couch. “He was worried about you.” Her face softens as she looks at her son.
“I told you I’m fine,” she says, and I snort.
“You’re not fine,” I retort. “Now,” I put my hand in her face, “stay.” She snaps her teeth at me, and I quickly run away, her and Ian’s laughter following me into the kitchen.
Kennedy
“He said I was fine, Ez. I can walk.”
Ezra is carrying me from the doctor’s office to his car, which is fucking embarrassing. I know not to wiggle around now, not after he popped my ass while we were in the waiting room and a few people saw. I nearly killed him, but didn’t want witnesses.
“He said you have a concussion,” he grumbles. “Said you’re lucky to be fucking breathing. Your bruises are fucking awful today—” I huff out a harsh breath and glare up at him. He’s being a bit overdramatic.
“This is ridiculous,” I say. “Nothing happened to my legs. I can walk.”
“You could barely hold yourself up to take a shower this morning,” he says, still not looking at me. The muscle in his jaw feathers, his eyes hard as he walks across the parking lot.
As my doctor had listed my injuries, Ez’s face grew darker and darker. I was proud of him for keeping his shit under control, but I could feel it boiling—his crazy was moments from overflowing.
“Should’ve taken my fucking time killing that bastard,” he mutters as he slides me into the car. I keep my arms folded over my chest as he buckles my seatbelt, something else I learned not to do, otherwise he pouts.
He slams the door shut and roughly puts his sunglasses on, his blond curls bouncing as he swaggers around the car. His walk is fucking ridiculous, the sway of his shoulders and hips, so over the top it should be funny…but it’s not. It’s so fucking hot.
What is wrong with me?
He starts the car, but doesn’t immediately pull out of the spot. He just grips the wheel and stares straight ahead, his jaw tense.
“You could’ve died and it would’ve been my fault,” he says, his voice low. I blink at him.
“No, it would’ve been their fault, not yours.” He shakes his head as I speak, his eyes trained on the car in front of us. “Ez.”
