My Sweet Bully

That’s not what happened.

Prairie is intently staring at me, she’s watching me, her eyes glued to my face. But this is where it gets bad, this is where it changes.

“We drove up to your dad’s building and pulled around back.” Sucking in a heap of air, I rake my fingers through my hair. Growling, I drag my hands down my face. “We sat for a bit, but no one came, not a fucking soul. I didn’t realize it was your father’s place, I honestly didn’t, not at first. It wasn’t until he got out and opened the trunk that I started to wonder.”

“I’ve never seen so much rage before in my life. He didn’t look like my brother, Prairie. It wasn’t my brother.” Shaking my head, I bury it in my hands.

“I’m sorry, Max, I really am.”

Lifting my eyes to hers, my chest hurts as the words sit on the tip of my tongue. “I couldn’t stop him. I swear I tried. I really did, I swear.”

Her eyes gloss over with tears, her hand strangling the napkin in her lap. I explain how he lit the building up before I could get to him. How we fought, but the damage was already done.

The place was on fire, engulfed in flames, and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.

Prairie reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Max. You can’t hold yourself responsible for what Harlow does.”

“But I should have stopped him. I should have made him leave. I should have stood up to him before it got this far.”

“You’re not responsible for him,” she says, lifting her palm to my cheek, and running her thumb across the curve of my jaw. “You’re not your brother, you never have been. I could see the difference between you two, even that night. I saw your eyes, and I saw Harlow’s. You had some fear in your eyes, but not your brother, all he had was hate.”

Resting my hand on top of hers, I pull it to my chest, and clutch it tight. “You want to come in? My dad won’t be home for a while.”

“I’d like to, but I really should get home. My parents—”

“Please?” I ask gently, but with so much need in my voice it hurts.

I need her right now. That’s all I feel, this overwhelming need to be with her.

Biting her lower lip, she nods. I barely see it in the dark car, but it’s there.

Climbing out of the car, we meet each other in the front, and I take her hand. Leading her into my house, I turn on the light in the living room, and she gasps.

“What?”

“You’re a mess.” Picking leaves from my hair, she wipes dirt off my shoulders. “Let me see your face.” Turning to face her, she softly runs her thumb over my swollen lip, and under my swelling eye. “Jesus, Max, does it hurt?”

“Nah, not really.” Pulling her hand away, I kiss the back of her knuckles. “Not with you here. With you here, I don’t feel any pain.”

Prairie smiles, batting her lashes shyly as I braid our fingers together, and pull her to my room. Guiding her inside, I close the door behind us. She stands in the center of my room, and I drop down onto the edge of my bed.

Reaching out, I take her hand and pull her in. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I press my face to her belly, and just hug her. I’ve never felt like this before with anyone.

Something about her makes me feel this warmth in the deepest part of my gut. When I touch her, sparks shoot across my skin, tangling around my chest. When I hold her, my muscles tense and tighten. And when I kiss her, when I kiss her everything in the world disappears.

Tilting my head up, I set my chin on her stomach and just look up at her. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I never want to let her go.

Her hands sweep across my cheeks, touching me with the weight of a feather. I dig my fingers into the small of her back, pulling her deeper into my arms.

“I’m never letting you go, Prairie. I hope you know that.”

She smiles, curling her hands around my neck. “Good, I never want you to.”

Standing to my feet, I hold her hips, and start to move side to side. Humming a beat, she starts to giggle.

“What are you doing?”

“I owe you a dance.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I’d put on music, but I don’t own anything we can slow dance to. My mother used to sing to me when I was really little.”

I sweep her around, moving her to the beat in my head, and the hum on my lips. We spin through my room slowly, swaying gently together. The rhythm of our hearts is holding the beat.