Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
I leave him with that promise and let Lachlan, no longer in shock, lead me to the car.
CHAPTER 59
LACHLAN
I should have killed him. The thought has been running through my head on loop. I did as Lyla asked and stopped myself when she asked me to. I’m still considering showing up at the hospital and putting a pillow over his head while he’s there. We have clear audio of him taking the blame for the accident that killed her mother, Luke’s supposed suicide, and killing another girl, which should be enough to put him away for life. I thought the punishment would be enough, but it’s not. He has too many connections, and I don’t trust our justice system to keep him behind bars. I want him dead. Every time I replay what happened, my anger reignites. When I saw him touching her, and unbuckling his pants, ready to lower them. . .fuck. And then, he had the nerve to call her his. I think that’s what ultimately sent me over the edge the second time. He fought back, but he stood no chance.
Everything about it and whatever happened afterwards is a blur. I remember Lyla hugging her dad and walking away. I don’t remember showering when we got here, but I must have, since I’m sitting in bed under the covers in a t-shirt and pajama pants. I have the worst fucking headache. I’m not sure if I say it aloud, but Lyla has a bottle of ibuprofen in her hand as she walks out of the bathroom. She gives me the medicine, holds a cup of water to my lips, and sets it on the nightstand. I watch her grab clean bandages and climb on the bed, sitting in front of me on top of the covers.
I protest and make her get up, so she can sit underneath the covers with me. The moment her ass is on the mattress, I pull her into me, burying my face in her neck and breathing her in for a couple of seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. I’m not sure. I don’t really care. When she pulls away, she kneels between my legs and sets the bandages down. She runs the back of her hand over my face softly, as she looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers I want to live inside of.
“How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, as she sets her hand on her lap.
“Fine.”
She shoots me a look. “Try again and tell me the truth this time.”
I sigh heavily, bringing my bandaged hands to her face. “I wish I’d killed him.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I’m just happy you’re here with me.”
“He hurt you.” I let my hands drop and pause to swallow past the pain in my throat. “He could have. . .”
I can’t even bring myself to say the damn word. It fucking hurts to think about, let alone speak into the universe.
“He didn’t. He wouldn’t have.” She reaches up and holds my face tight when I try to look away. “I knew you’d come for me. You always do.”
This fucking girl. I pull her to me again, holding her tighter this time. I don’t know what I would have done if he had. I guess I would’ve gone to jail for murder. But then I wouldn’t have this. I wouldn’t have her. And I know I’d be lost without her. I was lost without her before I found her again.
“I love you so much,” she whispers against my ear. “I would die without you.”
She wouldn’t. We both know she wouldn’t. I probably would, but she’s too strong to die of a broken heart. Still, it feels good to hear her say the words, even if they make my chest ache. The thought of being without her is insurmountable. I shut my eyes and focus so I don’t hurt her by tightening my grip on her, but it’s what I want to do. I want to mold her to me. I want to make her entire being a part of me so I never have to live a moment without her.
“Fuck, Lyla James.” I breathe out.
“I need to rebandage your hands,” she says when she tries to pull away and I don’t let her.
I let her go, only because I know she’ll fight me on it if I don’t let her do this. She holds one of my hands and begins unwrapping the bandage gently, slowing down even more when she reaches the wounds. I really fucked myself up this time. I’ve never been an enforcer, so I don’t get into a lot of fights. At least, I didn’t until I played in Florida and was always angry. On the ice, it’s never personal. With Jameson, it was too personal.
“Are you in pain anywhere else?” she asks, her concerned eyes snapping to mine for a moment. “Your ribs are a little bruised, but you didn’t complain about it in the shower.”