Part 9 (1/2)

”Oh, now that was the completely wrong thing to say,” Marc purred, his hand curling into a fist, muscles bunching. He could see the color red-splas.h.i.+ng in his mind as he plowed a fist into Tim's face. Red, one of the colors he saw pretty well, and just then he wanted to see it d.a.m.n bad, spreading out in a fountain over Tim's face. ”I'm not going to wait to hurt you. I'm just going to do it now.”

”Stop it, Marc.”

It was probably the only voice that could have gotten through to him.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes away from the man he really wanted to beat b.l.o.o.d.y and stared into Chaili's face. She was crouched by Tim's head, her elbows resting on her knees. As he stared at her, she shook her head. ”Don't. If you do, it's just going to cause you more trouble and you get enough of that on your own. You don't need to pick up my trouble.”

Her vivid eyes rested on his, steadily. And she wasn't trying to get away from him.

Okay.

Blinking, he blew out a breath and looked back into Tim's face. d.a.m.n it, he wanted to see him bleed.

”You don't want me to hit him,” he said slowly.

”No.”

”s.h.i.+t.” Letting go of Tim's s.h.i.+rt, he remained crouched over him for a minute. ”You want to watch what you say, what you do. Shut the h.e.l.l up, don't look at her...don't speak to her. Don't speak about her.” Then he made himself look away from Tim before he did what he so badly wanted to do. As he straightened, he kept his eyes focused on Chaili, staring at her, only at her. ”Leave with me. Talk to me.”

”Ahh...” She backed away a step.

He narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Tim who was scrambling his way to his feet. ”Well, I can always finish what I started, I guess.”

Chaili rolled her eyes. ”Now that's just juvenile.”

”Fine. I'm juvenile. It will feel d.a.m.n good.”

”d.a.m.n it, people are watching,” Chaili hissed, stepping in closer.

”Like I give a flying f.u.c.k.” He tossed her a reckless grin.

”You stupid son of a b.i.t.c.h.” She continued to glare at him.

But as he took a step away, she caught his hand. ”Fine.” She glanced around and gave her ex-husband a mock look of concern. ”d.a.m.n it, Tim, you should be more careful. You didn't hurt anything when you slipped, did you?”

”You crazy b.i.t.c.h, I-”

Nina-that was her name, Marc thought, leaned in, caught Tim's arm, giving him a wide-eyed look, shaking her head.

”Tim, dude, you always were a clumsy freak,” Miguel said from behind. ”You shouldn't go hitting the punch so hard. It's got a kick to it, ya know.”

h.e.l.l, Marc had forgotten about him.

Shooting his friend a look, Marc tried to figure out what to do about getting him home when he had to get Chaili out of here before she changed her mind.

”I'm going to go call my lady,” Miguel said, sighing. ”I think I ate too much.” He patted his belly and turned away, heading into the crowd.

As people started to press in closer, Marc pushed his way through, gripping Chaili's hand. ”Let's go.”

”Go?” Jumping Jack demanded. ”But you just got here?”

”And I got who I came for,” Marc said, still holding on to her hand, praying she wouldn't slip away. He could make this right, d.a.m.n it. He could do it. Of course, it would be easier if he could do it without talking.

Chapter Eight.

”Your ex is a bigger a.s.shole than I remember,” Marc said after thirty minutes of silence.

”Yes.” She stared out the window, her gaze focused on the lake. ”Where are we going?”

He drummed a hand on the steering wheel. ”I don't know. Where do you want to go?”

Sighing, she rested her head on the back of the seat. ”Home. I'm tired.”

”If I take you home, are you going to talk to me?”

”I'm talking now, aren't I?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him gripping the staring wheel so tight his hands were almost bloodless. ”You're not talking to me,” he said quietly. ”You're talking through me. Looking through me. Around me. I was an a.s.shole and I'm sorry and I'm trying to make it right and you won't let me and it's killing me.”

She was pretty certain her heart cracked. Right down the middle. d.a.m.n it. She was ready to be done with him. She wanted to do be done with him. But how could she do that when he kept pus.h.i.+ng himself inside her like that? And why now? When she was determined to excise him?

Part of her, the angry part of her that had waited and yearned for so long before giving up hope, wanted to tell him to f.u.c.k off. Another part of her still hoped. But the part of her that took control was the part that just couldn't stand to see him hurting. She'd loved him for too long. And h.e.l.l, he was a friend.

They had to find a way to make this right. Get things level, and then they could move past it.

”We can talk, Marc,” she said, rubbing her thumb over the b.u.mpy surface of her ring. Remade, she told herself. She could remake herself again, remake the shattered pieces of her heart, but not until she handled this part first.

Damaged goods.

It b.u.mped around in his head, didn't want to settle.

What the f.u.c.k...

No. Not now. Not now, he told himself as he followed her up the stairs and into to her apartment. Dipping a hand into his pocket, he rubbed his thumb over the ticket stub to the Springsteen concert, felt the worn, smooth surface. He had both the stub and one picture from the pier with him, holding them like good luck charms.

He needed to do this and get it done first, see if he could get her to believe him, get her to accept him and give him another chance.

That was what he needed to focus on.

And yet, as Chaili turned around to face him, without him even realizing what he was going to say, he blurted out, ”You were raped, weren't you?”

She blinked, looked a little thrown off. Then she sighed, pa.s.sed a hand over her face. ”No, Marc. I wasn't raped.”

”If you were, you can tell me. I mean...I want to kill whoever...” And he would, d.a.m.n it. He'd find him. Kill him slow and...

”I wasn't raped.” She turned away and moved to the window, staring outside. ”d.a.m.n that son of a b.i.t.c.h.”