Something I knew from my dad’s training: emotions made people reckless. When people were reckless, they made mistakes. Not just physically, but verbally. Right now Mackenzie skirted the razor’s edge of fury. If I could push her over that edge, she might accidentally admit to what I was still certain she’d done. Maybe she’d even brag.
So, I went the extra mile and unleashed my inner tigress. “Do you ever wonder what kids say about you behind your back? You live with the boys I supposedly slept with. You threaten anyone those boys show an interest in. That smacks of envy, too, don’t you think? No reason to reply. It does. My guess is, you’re still in love with Cole. I bet you even—”
With a shriek, she launched herself off her treadmill and onto mine. We tumbled backward, her on top. When we landed, I took the brunt of the impact, oxygen bursting from my mouth in a dizzying explosion. My head cracked against the concrete floor, and stars winked in front of my eyes.
Is it sad that my first thought happened to be: Thank God I’m off the treadmill!
She straddled my hips and threw the first punch, her knuckles slamming into my cheek. Another bout of stars, brighter this time, as my brain rattled against my skull.
I didn’t wait for them to clear. I threw my own punch, right at her mouth, splitting her still-healing lip. Her head whipped to the side, blood spraying across the floor. I reached up and grabbed her by the nape, shoving her down and hefting myself over her. Punch, punch, a hard double tap.
More blood, now dribbling down her chin. She tried to fight while horizontal, but strands of hair were in her eyes and her aim was off.
I remembered Justin’s words about her inability to kick butt while on the ground. I could beat her senseless, right here, right now. But then, I’d never get any answers. I held up my hands and said, “We don’t have to do this. Just tell me—”
“Argh!” She jerked upright, nailed me in the stomach, and sent me sprawling to my side.
I fought for breath as I stood. “I’m going to—” Hard arms—warm, strong, familiar—banded around me and yanked me into an even harder body.
“Enough,” Cole barked, the boom of his voice making me cringe.
Bronx and Frosty grabbed Mackenzie.
She struggled to free herself, desperate to reach me. “You think I don’t know what people say about me? You think I’d ever put someone else through that, even if I hated them?” Every word was spit at me.
Funny thing. I began to believe her. Utter hurt radiated from her. Not from the punches I’d delivered, but from deep inside her. She had suffered. She suffered still.
I sagged against Cole. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “For what I said. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.” The boys allowed her to wrench from their submissive hold. She stomped out of the barn, the door banging shut behind her.
My shoulders drooped with the weight of my shame. How could I have been so blind?
Well, I had my answer, didn’t I. I’d accused her of jealousy, but the emotion had been all mine. She was Cole’s ex. She lived with him. I had no idea if he still had feelings for her. I’d lashed out.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cole said. He laced our fingers and led me to the locker room, where he lifted me onto the sink counter. He disappeared, then returned with a first-aid kit.
Oh, great. The stitches in my arm had torn open. Blood flowed down, pooling in my palm. And now that I’d noticed, I felt the sting. On top of that, I also felt a terrible throb in both of my cheeks. (The ones on top.)
“You tried to tell me. I should have listened to you.” Tears burned my eyes, and I lowered my gaze so he wouldn’t notice. The droplets spiked in my lashes. I wiped them away with a shaky hand—and came face-to-face with a piercing in Cole’s nipple.
Uh, hello. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?
“Yeah, you should have.” He snipped away the threads, cleaned me up, numbed the skin with some kind of ointment, then sutured the wound. Even with the ointment, it felt like a hundred bees had decided to play Where Do You Hurt Most with my arm, but I merely bit my lower lip and endured.
“You’ve had to do this before,” I remarked. He had a steady hand, knew where to thread the needle, when to clip the ends.
“Yeah,” he repeated. “Even on myself. We all have.” When he finished that, he wrapped the lower half of my arm with gauze. And when he finished that, he flattened his hands beside my hips, put his body between my legs and leaned into me, peering deep into my eyes. “Are you okay? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Then he kissed me.
And it was just like before. I lost my mental hold on my surroundings and completely focused on Cole. On his mouth, pressing into mine. On his tongue, dueling with mine. On his taste, so sweet and addictive, like strawberries and chocolate. On his scent, a dark, rich spice. On his body, warm and strong and all around me, caging me in.
I had no thoughts of resisting. My arms wound around him, drawing him even closer. We were flush against each other, and I loved it. I even wrapped my legs all the way around him and locked my ankles on his lower back, keeping him in place.
I guess he was interested in me romantically.