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As silence and tension hang in the air, Rodney shocks me, being the first one to speak. His voice is full of restrained anger.
“I told you to leave her alone and to stay away from her, Danica.”
Danica is pissed, practically yelling and drawing a lot of unwanted attention our way.
“And why is that, Rodney?”
Rodney clenches and unclenches his hands. For him, more than the rest of us, tormenting Kennedy for her father’s transgressions is his revenge, his release.
Callum’s head suddenly shoots up, his gaze focused on one object. The rest of us follow his line of sight, trying to see what has his attention. Shooting a quick look at Gareth, he gives me a quick chin lift. Before anyone else notices our silent conversation, I move across the room.
The moment Danica realizes what is happening, I am already putting distance between me and the table.
“Where is he going?”
My steps are quick, my strides long, quickly making up the difference between where we are sitting and my prey. Approaching the line quickly, I step in front of Kennedy, preventing her from leaving the dining hall.
“Duchess, still here, I see,” stating the obvious, my tone one of amusement.
“Wow, you managed more words than your buddies have.” Kennedy’s tone is reserved. Subtly glancing around, looking for the others as if she is expecting them to jump out and grab her again.
Turning her eyes back toward me, she speaks again, still wary. “What can I help you with?” She pauses for a brief moment before curiosity gets the better of her, making it difficult to keep the smirk off my face. “Since Rodney and Gareth have already confronted me, that makes you either Ashton or Callum.”
No longer able to fight it, one side of my lips turns up at her snarky tone, blood rushing below my waist.
“Ashton,” I respond, putting one hand over my heart and giving her a slight bow. Getting right to the point as I spot blood dotted down the front of her shirt, “What happened earlier, with Danica?” My question catches her off guard. Her eyes bounce around the room again, her nervousness wafting off of her.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she says, trying to brush off the incident. Her attitude and behavior bring my protectiveness to the surface. Not giving up this conversation, I move to block Kennedy once again, uncaring that we are holding up the line.
“Come now—we are all aware that you got a bloody nose. I just need to hear your version of it.”
“What does it matter?” Kennedy’s shoulders sag, seeming defeated.
My tone has lost the flirtatiousness and is now very serious, knowing deep down the bloody nose was no accident.
“Rodney told Danica to stay away from you. If she is bothering you, we will handle it.”
Kennedy gives me an unreadable look. She steps sideways, staring toward the door. Looking over her shoulder, she finally responds.
“I appreciate you wanting to keep my torment limited to just the four of you. You won’t need to run interference for me with the mean girl squad. Girls like them are a dime a dozen. I have been dealing with girls like that my whole life.”
Side-stepping and blocking her again, “Please, tell me what happened to your nose.”
Her eyes widen slightly at my use of the word “please.” Turning back around to face her, her tone defeated.
“I bumped my nose, and that is all you need to know about it.”
Looking back at our table and finding the guys watching our exchange is just enough of a distraction for Kennedy to sneak past me. Frantically looking around, I spot her clearing the doorway and exiting the dining hall.
I catch up to her again in the hallway. Kennedy hands her head as her feet come to a stop. Looking down, a frown mars my face.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
Looking at her hands, she holds a bottle of water and a granola bar.
“I’m fine.”
“Ashton, hey man, how’s it going?”
