I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(39)

“Morning, Ryker.”

He throws a look over his shoulder before coming back to face me. “Mav’s asleep.”

“He isn’t going to class?”

“Uh—” He flounders, clearly not wanting me to come inside.

But I’m determined.

“Do you have any coffee made?” I ask sweetly.

“Why?”

I smile and hold up my paper bag of goodies. “Because coffee would go great with these chocolate muffins I made.”

He sucks in a long breath as I open the bag and show him the contents, the appetizing scent of sugar and butter wafting up out of the bag. Ryker grins at me. “He said you like to cook, and I can’t resist home-cooked food. Come on in.”

I step inside, heading straight to the little kitchenette. Like Alex’s dorm suite, the space has a small kitchen, a den, bedrooms off to the right, and a bathroom to the left.

Ryker sinks his teeth into a muffin as I dig around in the pantry to find what I need to make coffee.

“Goddamn, you’re amazing,” he murmurs as he reaches for a second muffin. “If Maverick isn’t into you, how about we spend a little time alone?” He waggles his brows at me, clearly joking, making me shake my head.

“Maverick is into her,” comes a gruff voice from behind me as two strong arms wrap around me and a nose finds my neck and inhales. “Damn, I’ve missed you.”

My body melts into his. God…yes. This is what I need.

Ryker rolls his eyes at us. “Okay, you two, keep it PG.”

Feeling glad that he’s here and okay, I turn around only to have my heart fall.

He stands there in bare feet, navy flannel pajama pants, and a white t-shirt with one eye swollen shut and his left cheek colored yellow and purple from a bruise. His arms are painted with bruises too, most of them on his biceps.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. I feel sick. Swallowing down my panic, I say, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?” My hands flutter around him.

He shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about. It’s all over now.”

What? Nothing to worry about? Is he crazy?

“Who did this to you?” I’m assuming it was a fight.

His face tightens, his gaze not meeting mine. “I got in a fight with someone at the bar when I went to pick up my dad this weekend.”

My brow furrows, trying to imagine it. “That’s horrible.”

Ryker seems displeased with Maverick’s response and lets out a sigh. Maverick scowls back at him, his jaw clenching.

I look from one to the other. “What on earth is going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Maverick doesn’t respond, just strides over to the coffee. I watch as he lifts his arm to get a cup from the cabinet, the movement slow and careful.

My frustration with the lack of details grows. “This is why you weren’t in class?”

Ryker snatches another chocolate muffin from the container and makes his way around us. “Looks like you two need to talk, and I need to put some clothes on.” He walks by, giving me an apologetic look. “Good luck,” and then he’s out of the room and shutting his bedroom door.

“What the hell is going on here?” I ask Maverick as he stirs in creamer and settles back against the counter to sip his coffee.

“Just got in a tussle. It’s not anything I want you to worry about.”

“I am worried.”

“Why?” Those intense blue eyes study me.

“Because you look terrible and I’m afraid you’re hurt.”

“Why?” He takes a long drag from his mug.

I lift my hands in exasperation. “Because I like you and I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

He exhales loudly as he sets down his coffee, the movement making him wince. Because he’s an alpha male, he’s probably holding back some of his discomfort, so I know he’s in a lot of pain. My eyes roam over him, taking in the way he gingerly moves forward to retrieve one of the muffins and sinks his teeth into it.

My lips compress. “Were the police involved? Because you need to file charges against the person who did this to you.”

“No.” Silence fills the room, and I stand here, not feeling entirely welcome. I’m disappointed and angry he isn’t being more forthcoming.

Fine. I inhale sharply and snap up my backpack, which I set on the floor next to the table when I came in.

I’m at the door when I hear his voice.

“Delaney, please…don’t go.”

I freeze, my chest rising at his plea. His tone is soft, with an undercurrent of vulnerability that gives me pause.

I hear scuffling and turn around to watch him walk toward me. His steps are slow, his jaw clenched, his chest barely moving as if he’s restraining even his own breaths.

“Dammit, you’re really hurt,” I say, biting my lip as I drop my backpack and walk over to him.

“I don’t want you to go.” He swallows and stares down at his feet.

“Let me see everything,” I say, pulling up his loose shirt and gasping as I see the bruises on his ribs. A long one stretches down his right side, ending just above his hip. I clench my jaw and gaze up at him as tears prick at my eyes. This wasn’t just a regular good-ol’-boys tussle.