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She shakes her head. “No. No, I’m not okay.”
“What can I do? How can I fix this?” I cup her good cheek and rub my thumb gently under her eye. “You’ve gotta believe me, sweetheart. I’d never intentionally hu—”
“Malice, stop,” she says, her shoulders slumping. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, okay? Despite your horrible attitude ninety percent of the time, you’re not a bad guy. I’ve managed to figure that out.” She points to her swelling cheek. “I know this was an accident and honestly, it’s what I get for trying to break up a fight between two brick walls. So, stop apologizing.”
I hang my head. “I’m sor—”
Apple flattens her hand over my mouth and only when I lift my eyes to lock with hers does she lower her arm. Silently, she links her fingers through mine and leads me toward the bed, which seems to be the only piece of furniture not busted.
“Sit,” she commands. Not wanting to upset her, I drop to my ass on the mattress. “Malice, I’m not mad at you for this, okay?” She arches a brow, refusing to continue until I nod. “Good. Now, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?” Again, I nod. “You and me… we’re good. Whatever we are, we’re good. But you and Mark?” She shakes her head. “You two are heartbreaking.”
“You don’t need to worry about us.”
“That’s the thing, Malice, I do,” she insists. “Like it or not, Mark is my best friend. I adore him.” When my eyes narrow, she tacks on, “Like a brother. I adore him like a brother. And you… I like you. It doesn’t make sense, and damned if I know when or how it happened, but I really freaking like you.”
I lift her hand and rest it on my lap. “I like you too, Apple.”
“Then I need you to do something for me.”
I eye her suspiciously. “What?”
She takes a deep breath, exhales loudly. “Do you know what started that fight?”
“He walked in on us in the damn shower,” I deadpan, and a thought occurs to me. “How the hell did he even get in my room?”
“I don’t know. And him walking in on us in the shower isn’t what started it.”
“Yes, it—”
“He accused you of taking advantage of me.”
The entire sordid scene unfolds in my memory, completely unwanted and severely… needed.
“Who the fuck do you think I am?” I roar as I step out of the shower and stalk toward Mark. “You can’t seriously think I’d take advantage of her after what happened to me.”
Mark flinches and steps back, away from me. “After what happened to you?” he counters. His eyes narrow, and his face flushes with rage. “What about what happened to me?!” he yells.
“Something happened to Mark,” I say, more to myself than to Apple.
She nods. “I think so. I think…” She squeezes my hand. “I think the same thing that happened to you, happened to him.”
Frantically, I shake my head. “No. No, that’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it?”
I scan her face, searching for some indication that she’s wrong. But I find nothing. “It’s not,” I continue to deny. “I killed the men who hurt me.”
Her eyes widen, but her expression softens so quickly, I wonder if I imagined the shock.
“Malice, you need to talk to Mark,” she says. “You both have baggage you need to work through, and something tells me you’re the only two who can understand each other and what you went through.”
“But…” Still, I shake my head. I don’t think I’ve stopped shaking it as if doing so will erase the possibilities like an Etch A Sketch. “What if he refuses to talk to me?” I ask, desperation lacing my tone.
It’s odd, going from hating someone so fiercely to wanting to make things right in what feels like an instant. But that’s exactly what’s happening.
Like it or not, Mark is my brother, and we need to fix what’s broken between us. I have no illusions that it’ll be easy, but I owe it to him to try.
Especially if his demons are the same as my own.
