Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(91)

“What difference does it make whose she is?!” I snap. “Grow the fuck up. You have a sister! Put her in Mia’s place for a second. Would it still be a game if it was Kathy in that restroom tonight?”

“No, of course not. Fuck, man... this is so surreal. That clip you played will haunt me in my sleep.”

“I hope it eats you alive. What Mia went through is your fault. Make no mistake, kid. Anyone touches her again, there’ll be fucking hell to pay. Now get out of my house.”

“I’ll take care of it. I promise. I’ll call it all off.”

Colt grips his shoulder, ushering him toward the door. As soon as it bangs closed behind him, the Holy Trinity unites, standing arm-in-arm and blocking the doorway.

“Listen, we’re sorry, Nico,” Cody says, sounding like he’s barely holding it together. “We had her, we always have her, but when Grayson told us about the prize, we jumped Brandon, and—”

“I know,” I huff, massaging my temples.

“No, you don’t. We fucked up. We should’ve paid more attention; we should’ve...” Colt cuts himself off. “We won’t ask you to let us take her out again.”

“No, you won’t. I’m not her fucking owner, so you don’t ask me. You ask Mia. And you better do. She needs those nights, Colt. I need her to go out and party so she doesn’t regret not doing it later.” I plop down on the couch, accepting a glass of whiskey from Theo. “I don’t blame you for what happened tonight. You were looking out for her when you jumped Brandon, weren’t you?”

They all nod, each taking a glass from Theo, who’s playing bartender, fixing drinks in silence.

“I didn’t ask Johnny to keep an eye on Mia because I don’t trust you to do it right,” I say, taking a big sip. “I just... I’m working through my shit, trying to tame that controlling side. It takes time.”

Cody lets all air out of his lungs, then grits his teeth like he’s trying to get a hold of himself. “She’s in love with you, you know? And she’s scared you’ll leave her.”

“I know,” I huff, setting the glass aside. “I’ve made a few mistakes along the way, but I’m learning how to navigate this. She’s not what I’m used to, and I’ve fucked up a few times, but don’t worry. I promised I won’t hurt her, and I won’t.”

He stares me down, in a mixture of apology and relief. “How is she? You need us to do anything?”

“No. She’s asleep. I don’t think it hit her yet, but we’ll all be here for her when it does.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Colt admits, taking a seat on the piano stool.

“Yeah...” Conor drawls on a long exhale. “Too tough for her own fucking good sometimes.”

◆◆◆

Mia didn’t wake up screaming.

Not once. She didn’t move much all night.

And she’s still asleep, lips pursed, one hand across my ribs, the other under the pillow.

So fucking gorgeous.

I ghost my fingers up and down her arm under the comforter, getting ready for whatever comes when she wakes up.

Her hair is sprawled on her pillow, which she hardly ever uses, nestling her face in the crook of my neck or my chest, and I fucking love when she’s so close.

It’s not the most comfortable position, lying on my back most of the night, but if it means having Mia curve into me, I’ll gladly suffer the lower back pain.

She only sleeps in my arms on the weekends. It’s starting not to be enough. Every night without her warm, body beside me, it gets harder to fall asleep.

My wristwatch tells me it’s nine-thirty when she starts stirring, changing positions every few seconds like she’s trying to find one that’ll let her sleep a little longer.

I’ve been awake almost two hours but didn’t dare untangle myself from her hold.

“Morning,” I whisper, kissing her head.

“Morning,” she breathes, pulling the comforter so high nothing south of her nose is visible. “Did Shawn come over last night?”

“Yeah. He’s coming back today around eleven to talk to you.” I tug the comforter and nudge her until she lies on her back. A nasty bruise on the side of her pretty face kick-starts the bright-white freeze of anger worming my mind.

The bruise is larger than my fucking hand. Red and purple from her cheek to her jaw.

“That bad?” she asks, combing her blonde locks over one shoulder. “I wouldn’t have this if not for the clotting factor deficiency. It’ll be gone in about a week.” She pinches her lips together, and a hot glow of pink spills over her cheeks. “Did you see the clip?”

I grip her waist, pulling her under me. “I did, baby, and before you ask, it changes nothing. I’m sorry you went through that.” I kiss her forehead, moving my elbows flush against her ribs. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could trust me. I won’t let you down again.”

“It’s not your fault. Please—” she whispers, biting the inside of her cheek. “Don’t do this. Don’t blame yourself, the triplets, or anyone else, okay? It doesn’t help anyone. It happened. It’s done. We can’t turn back ti—”

“Don’t act like it didn’t happen. You need time to process it,” I cut in, anticipating where this is going. She’s invalidating the whole thing, lessening its severity and consequences. “Don’t rush. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”