Ryan (Mallick Brothers 2)

"Maybe you should patch yourself up first," she said, reaching out tentatively and putting her fingers on the side of my hand.

Looking down, I saw my knuckles busted open. But, likely because my body was used to trauma, the bleeding had already long stopped and I would be scabbed over before the end of the night. "This is nothing," I said, shaking my head, moving to slowly stand, pulling her up with me gently "Can you take a deep breath?"

"I'm assuming you mean am I physically capable," she mused with a small self-deprecating smile, moving her one hand to her belly and expanding it with air. "Yeah."

"Alright. How stocked is your medicine cabinet?" I asked, glancing down the hall to the open door to her bathroom.

"Bandaids and triple antibiotics?" she half-asked, half-declared, looking unsure.

"Alright, I will grab some stuff from my place. You alright to stay here?"

"Can I come?" she shocked me by asking, making me turn fully to look at her, my brows drawn together.

"To my apartment?" I clarified, watching her.

"I kinda just don't... want to be in here right now," she admitted, looking around like she didn't recognize it anymore. Given the utter disaster it was in, I imagined it was more anxiety-inducing for her to stay than leave. "If that's okay," she added, looking down at her feet.

"Honey, you can stay with me as long as you need," I offered, reaching down to take her hand, only somewhat surprised when she not only let me, but squeezed tight. "Come on," I added when she hesitated, looking around. "I'll find Rocky once we get you patched up," I said, knowing that was what was holding her back.

"Thanks," she said, voice quiet as I led her across the hall and unlocked my door. "Are those your bags?" she added, nodding down the hall.

"Nothing important. I'll get it when I get the cat. Come on," I urged, pulling her inside and closing the door.

"Has anyone ever told you that your apartment sort of screams 'bachelor'?"

I smiled at that. "My brother's woman, constantly." I led her toward the hall only to have her yank back, stopping and looking at the canvas she had given me that I had found a spot for in the hallway.

"You hung it already."

"Of course I did. Come on, stop stalling. We need to get your face treated."

With that, I led her into my bathroom and went straight for the linen closet, dragging out the big plastic container full of every medical supply you could get in a store (and a few you couldn't) and put it down on the counter.

When I looked back at her, she was staring at herself in the mirror, her lower lip quivering at the mess her face had been turned into. "It will all go down, Dusty," I offered. "The eye and the cheek and the lip. They look so bad because they're swollen. The bruises will fade. The cuts, well, you might have a scar or two, but even those will fade eventually. Trust me," I added when she just kept staring.

"You fight like someone who does it often," she said, catching my gaze in the mirror.

"Not as often as I used to." I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to give her the full truth yet either.

Luckily she didn't press. "I'm sorry about your hands."

"It's nothing," I said, grabbing a sterile gauze and coating it with peroxide then reaching for her hip to turn her to face me. I felt myself wince, steeling my stomach. "This is going to hurt," I warned.

She gave me a small nod and took a deep breath.

She pressed her lips together and tried to bite the bullet about it, but by the time I had all the cuts cleaned out, her tears were mixing with the peroxide.

"Sorry," I said, stroking a finger down her jaw. "This will help," I added, reaching for the triple antibiotic and a Q-tip, sliding the gloppy shit all over her face. "Okay," I said when I was done. "I need to check your ribs," I went on, wondering how much of an issue that might be.

She swallowed hard and nodded tightly. "Okay."

That was it- okay.

She didn't reach for her shirt to lift it.

"Can I?" I asked, touching the hem of the tee.

She gave me another tight nod and I slowly moved the material up, revealing more of her pale skin, marred in several spots with light bruising that, while it didn't look like much, probably hurt like a bitch and would hurt more given a night to really set in. But it wasn't too bad. Better than I expected. When I caught sight of her gray and white polka-dotted bra, I stopped, pressing the material of her tee under the band with one hand and reaching out with the other, sliding across her belly and seeing the muscles under the skin contract at the contact as her air rushed out of her. She was so fucking sensitive and I had hoped to explore more of that on New Years. But not like this. Not hurt. My hand pressed into her ribs gently at first. With no reaction, I pushed harder. "Nothing?" I asked, angling my head up to look at her.