Page 16 of Fueled Fury

“David treats me more like his daughter than you do. You only seem interested in me if it’s something you’re doing to hurt Dad.”

She blinks rapidly as she looks away from me. “Your father hurt me. He hurt us both when he picked his career over his family.” She lets out a hushed sob as she hurries out the room. Yeah, it still stings that my dad walked out on us, but it hurts more that my mom’s using me to get back at him, even if I do benefit occasionally (like how I’d gotten my dream car out of it).

Climbing into bed, I’m thankful that the day is finally over as I pull the comforter to my chin. My eyes focus on the view outside the window, and I soak in the tranquil peacefulness of the darkness, watching the moonlight reflecting over the water, as I finally begin to doze off.

The bed shifts under me and I suddenly realize that someone is in the room with me. Clutching the covers, I kick against the mattress, slinking back against the headboard. Seconds pass as my eyes finally adjust. Austin.

He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, his head hanging as he looks to his intertwined hands, elbows resting against his thighs.

We sit in the darkness for a few seconds before he speaks. “Just let me stay. I won’t touch you. I just want to make sure he doesn’t.”

I don’t have to ask who “he” is because I know he’s talking about Matt. Even in the darkness I can see the gashes on his knuckles from whatever happened between them after I went inside.

Tossing the comforter aside, I slide off the bed and gesture to the en suite. It’s so confusing to feel hatred towards him and also want him at the same time.

He silently follows me as we walk into the bathroom and close the door. He leans against the counter, watching as I search for what I need. Unfortunately, though I find bandages and rubbing alcohol, what I really need can’t be found in the medicine cabinet. What I really need is something to keep my defensive wall intact because he’s slowly chiseling it away.

Moving his hands over the sink, I turn on the warm water and scrub away the dried blood covering his knuckles. “What happened?”

“I had to. He needed to know you’re off-limits.”

Pulling out the vanity chair, I point to the seat. “Sit down.”

He does what I ask (for once) and sits. Moving in front of him, I grab the rubbing alcohol and dab at the cuts on his knuckles. When I look up, expecting him to wince in at least a little pain from the burning sensation, I find him intently watching me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper.

“It’s your fault.” He brings his left hand up, trailing his thumb along my mouth.

“Of course it is.”

“It’s true. You started all of this that day.” His finger rubs down my chin before moving to my neck, his thumb tenderly stroking my skin. I want nothing more than to melt into his touch as he continues. “You were at the ranch almost every day that summer. I did my best to stay away from you and Eli. The laughter and fun y’all had made me jealous. One day, I ripped my hand open trying to fix the barbed wire fence along the property. You saw the blood dripping down my arm and were devastated. Instead of ignoring me like Eli did, you clasped your hand over my arm and made me follow you into the house. The entire time you fussed at me, saying I should’ve been more careful and not gotten hurt.”

“I remember that day,” I murmur, picturing the dirt-covered face of teenaged Austin. I’ve always had a crush on this sullen guy who looked at me with annoyance. Taking a cotton swab and patting at the current gashes, I avoid looking at Austin in this moment.

“It was the first time.”

My hand freezes before continuing as I ask, “First time for what?”

“The first time someone touched me. The first time I can recall feeling skin against mine. The first time I had someone take care of me. The first time anyone gave a shit that I was hurting. The first time I felt like someone could care about me. The first time I wanted to be able to care about someone else. The first time I wanted to be a better person.”

“Austin … there’re people who care about you.”

“You know my parents hate me. I could bleed out on the living room floor and they’d step over me while complaining about the mess my blood was making on the carpet.”

I swallow down the agony at the truth in his words. It took me forever to see it, and I still don’t understand why they treat Austin like they do compared to Eli, but he’s right.

“You’re the only one who matters, the only one I could ever feel anything for.”

Stepping back, I throw the bloody swab in the trash and turn away from him. I toss some bandages and ointment on the counter as I say. “You really should shower first but put that on your hand either way.”

I go to leave the bathroom, but Austin won’t let me avoid what he’s just told me. “Talk to me, Lainey. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix us.”

I can’t let him hurt me again. Avoiding this conversation is the only defense I have right now. “I’ll go grab some clothes that you left here.”

“Lainey,” he says, his voice pleading for something I can’t give him. I’m scared he’ll damage me even more this time.

“I’ll be right back.” I pull away from him, and thankfully, he releases my wrist and doesn’t pursue the conversation. I don’t want to hear sweet words from Austin. I don’t want to know how he sees me through his eyes. Everything I feel for him has been tarnished. Even if he tries to be a better person, he’ll only end up being nothing but heartache for me.