Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(23)

She’s afraid. She flinched again when I touched her.

How the hell am I supposed to deal with her when she’s so skittish? I want to wrap her in my arms, curve her into my chest, and hold her until she calms down, but it’d probably have the opposite effect.

She’s pocket-sized, but she broke Brandon’s nose, and I think she could cause me some damage, too. Explaining to Cody why his little girl felt the urge to take me down would be problematic, so I drop her hand, taking half a step back. I pump my fists, reining in the turmoil of my emotions.

It doesn’t work.

My pulse soars again, whooshing in my ears when I notice fading, yellowy-green bruises dotting Mia’s arms.

Both arms.

Upper, lower, wrists... dozens of bruises, most the size of a silver dollar, others bigger, some smaller.

I grab her again, yanking her closer to gently trace the pad of my thumb over the marks. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

She doesn’t reply, just stares at me blankly with those unbelievable eyes like she hasn’t heard what I said or doesn’t know how to respond.

I want to grip her shoulders and shake words out of her. Fury bubbles in my veins, throbbing in my temples, but I grit my teeth, swapping anger for fake calm. “Mia, who did this? I need a name. Now.”

“It’s nothi—”

“Don’t brush me off. Who did this?”

She squirms, her cheeks scarlet as she tries to tug her hand free, shuddering softly and angling her head back to look into my eyes. “Um... it was you.”

Three words. Just three small words, but their meaning hits like a lightning bolt.

“Me?” I let her go, stumbling back a whole step this time. Confusion wins the battle against rage, still sizzling at the back of my mind. “What? I never hurt you. I never fucking touched you, Mia.”

Not like this.

“Yes, you did. You grabbed me at Rave.” She points to four bruises around her upper arm, making my stomach bottom out. “And you held me when you taught me self-defense.” She touches the bruises around her lower arms and wrists.

“Fuck...” I can barely swallow around the lump in my throat as I curl my fingers under her chin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I gripped you so hard.” I remember thinking my hold on her was tight, but not that tight.

“It’s okay.” She flashes me a smile, playing this down. It does nothing to loosen the chain coiled around my chest. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve got—”

“It’s not fine.” This is as far from fine as it gets. “Why didn’t you tell me I was holding you too hard? You should’ve said something.”

“It’s okay.” She steps closer to place her small hand on my bicep. The warmth of her palm radiates all over me, and my heart rate slows on cue. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I’ve got VWD. I bruise easily.”

“VWD?”

“Von Willebrand Disease. My blood doesn’t clot properly. I bleed excessively and bruise like a peach.” She gently brushes her fingertips higher, then back down, trying to soothe me. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m tougher than I look, Nico.”

I push a calming breath down my nose, but it doesn’t work. I’ve never hurt a woman. Not even Kaya when she threw a kitchen knife at me, missing my head by not many inches.

And Mia’s tiny, delicate: fucking fragile. My insides knot so hard it’ll take days before the tension eases.

The clotting disorder explains why she soaked through the gauze before we left the tattoo studio. “You shouldn’t be getting tattoos, right?”

She nods, her cheeks pinking up. “Not really, but I’m only type two, so not that bad. I take necessary precautions. All my tattoos are tiny, and I’ve never had issues.”

“Ah, there you are.” Aisha stops beside us, cutting in before I can apologize again. “I need to take a rain check, sis. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She pulls a peacock feather out of her bag, handing it over to Mia, then shoves her hand back in to retrieve a small, white box tied with a pink ribbon. “Happy birthday.”

A sad, defeated grimace crosses Mia’s face before it morphs into an unconvincing smile. “Thank you. Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.” Aisha leans in and pecks her cheek, then turns to me. “Come on, baby boy. We’re going to Q.” She doesn’t wait for a reply. She just walks away with a seductive sway of her hips designed to entice Toby, who watches her every move.

I imagine wringing her slim, long neck. She knows how much baby boy riles me up, and she hardly passes the chance to throw that in my face.

“She’s ditching you on your birthday?” I ask Mia.

“No, of course not.” She pinches the feather between her fingers. “My birthday was yesterday, but she was busy celebrating yours.”

We share a birthday? That makes her exactly ten years younger than me... too young.

“What’s the feather about?” I ask, pushing that thought away.

“It’s... it was a silly, childish tradition. It stopped working a long time ago.”

“Keep going. I want to know.”

She tucks it in her bag, sliding the zipper left and right. “I found it at the Zoo when I was ten. Aisha’s six years older than me and a much different person. She never liked spending time together unless she could get something out of it.