A Redo (Sterling Shore 6)

Yet he stands in front of Billy, unaffected, and still furious before punching him in the stomach and sending Billy to the ground.

More tires squeal as a car jerks to a halt behind Wren’s, and I watch as Corbin dives out, leaving his door wide open and his car still running as he runs toward the dogfight.

Wren is already pulling Billy up, and slamming his knee into his side, but Corbin rips him off Billy and struggles to hold him back, even though he’s nothing but a body of muscle.

“Fucking stop!” Corbin yells, his longer hair falling and getting in his face. “He’s your brother!”

Billy slowly crawls up to his knees, spitting out blood. Wren’s lip is bleeding, so obviously I missed a shot to the face that he took. I never saw Billy get a hit in.

“We’re done!” Wren growls, glaring at Billy. “Too far this time. Too fucking far.”

Billy looks at Wren like he has lost his mind, and Corbin struggles to keep Wren in check.

“You need a hospital, dude,” Corbin says to Billy before shoving Wren toward me. “Pretty sure that nose is broken.”

I immediately get in front of Wren, hoping he won’t just move me aside and attack again. But I’m surprised when he clutches my side and pulls me against him.

“I just came over to talk to her, you psycho fucker!” Billy yells in between spitting out mouthfuls of blood because his nose is gushing and running down.

Wren takes a menacing step forward, and I push back on him, my eyes darting panicky toward Corbin. There’s no way in hell I’m big enough to keep Wren from going after Billy again if he wants to. I swear he’s solid rock and towers over me. At 5’5, I feel like a dainty little girl next to him.

“Come near her again, and I swear I’ll break both of your legs.”

Corbin turns to look at me, seeming more confused than anything else. I’m freaked out. Not confused. Confused is too mild of an emotion for this craziness.

“Get him inside,” Corbin says to me. “I’ll get Billy to a doctor.”

I start shoving at Wren, but it’s like trying to budge a brick wall.

“Wren, please. Move your feet. My neighbors are going to call the cops.”

He glances down at me, and his hands go to my hips before he lifts me up from the ground like I’m weightless. His arms slide around my waist, and my feet dangle as he carries me toward the house, his body still vibrating with fury.

“Your lip is cut,” I say softly, ignoring the way my body feels against his as he kicks the door shut behind him.

Surprisingly, his lip isn’t still bleeding. I brush the small bit of blood away with my thumb, trying not to acknowledge how soft his lips feel.

He carries me to the kitchen, gently putting me down, and forces me to release his face when he goes to the sink. He barely turns it on, but breathes in relief when he sees that the plumber he sent did fix it.

I don’t mention the fact he sent a plumber instead of attempting it himself because he was avoiding me—avoiding the tension with us.

The water runs over his hands, and I watch all the blood running from his hands and into the drain. Blood doesn’t seem to bother him as much as he once insinuated, or maybe his adrenaline is still pumping so hard that he doesn’t notice. Even though his hands look swollen, there aren’t any cuts, so that blood isn’t his.

My eyes move to his lip to see the blood is no longer there, and it seems to be a shallow cut that isn’t bothering him.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, confusing me as he comes to lift me off the counter.

I tilt my head, moving my eyes from his soft lips to his angry gaze. “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t have let him touch me.”

My legs dangle down the length of his body, and I gingerly wrap my arms around his shoulders, wondering why he insists on putting me in this intimate position right now. He narrows his eyes, still holding me so that I’m eye-level with him.

“Why?”

He still sounds so damn pissed, and his jaw ticks with every word. I’ve only ever seen him angry once, and that’s when we fought. Everyone talks about how Wren never gets angry. I just saw him obliterate his brother in my front yard.

I’m starting to think Wren just doesn’t usually let people see the real him, because he’s nothing more than a lit stick of dynamite that is due to explode at any moment. Yet for some reason, I feel completely safe in his arms.

“Why what?” I ask when he continues to stare expectantly.

“Why wouldn’t you have let him?”

I’m torn between slapping him for asking that and kissing him to answer his question. I hate being turned on and pissed at the same time, and Wren is the master at making me feel that way.