Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 152

By the time we reach the cabin, I’m crying a little less, but my body is still trembling, and my heart feels like it’s been squeezed to half its size. I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, but the tears just keep coming.

Max walks me to the door, his arm still gently around my shoulders. He leans down to look at me, his voice low and careful.

“You gonna be okay?”

I nod, though it’s a shaky, uncertain movement. “Yeah. I think so.”

I take a deep breath, but when I look up at him, I gasp.

“Max, your jaw—”

His skin is red and already bruising where Tyler’s fist connected. My stomach twists with guilt.

Max touches his jaw, wincing a little, then drops his hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears again. “You got hurt because of me.”

He grabs my shoulders, his hold gentle but firm. “No. I got hurt because Tyler’s a fucking asshole. You didn’t do anything, Penny. You hear me?”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

“You’re not to blame for any of this. Tyler’s the one who messed up. He wanted two people, so he tried to have both. That’s not on you. And Zoe? She’s just as bad. They both did this to you. Not you.”

His words cut through some of the fog in my head, and I nod, sniffling.

Max softens his grip, his hand sliding down to hold mine. “Please don’t worry about me. I get more hurt playing football. Seriously.”

I try to laugh, but it’s a broken, hollow sound. “Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand. “I’ll text you when I’m back at the lodge. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

I manage a small nod, and he pulls me into one more tight, comforting hug. Then he walks back down the path, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure I’m okay.

I push the door open and step inside.

Asher’s jacket is on the floor, shredded and bloody, and his boots are haphazardly kicked off. Panic rushes back, and my heartbeat picks up again. I hear water running from the washroom.

“Asher?” I call, my voice small and tight. No answer.

I walk closer, pushing the bathroom door open a crack. “Asher? Can I come in?”

There’s a beat of silence, then a low, rough, “Yeah.”

I slip inside and stop dead in my tracks.

The sink is stained with streaks of blood, and Asher is standing in front of it, his back to me, shirt peeled halfway off. There are two long cuts on his right bicep, both red and angry, though they don’t look deep enough to need stitches. Still, the sight makes my stomach flip.

He’s pressing gauze to one of the cuts, his movements precise and calm, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“Oh my God, Asher,” I breathe out, stepping closer.

He barely glances at me, focusing on tying off the gauze. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. You’re bleeding. You need to go to the hospital.”

He shakes his head, almost like he’s annoyed, but not at me—at the situation. “It’s not that bad. I already cleaned it. Just needs wrapping.”

“But—”

“Penny,” he says firmly, but not unkindly, his voice steady. “I’m okay.”

I bite my lip, watching his hands as he finalizes the bandage. I’ve never seen him look so... different. His usually guarded, calculated movements are slightly shaky, like he’s riding the tail end of an adrenaline rush.

He ties off the gauze, cuts the excess with his knife, and then finally turns to face me. The second his eyes meet mine, he stills.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his tone changing completely.

I can’t answer. I don’t know how to put it into words. I just keep staring at the blood on his arm, the bruises already forming around the scratches.

Asher crosses the small distance between us in two long strides, drops to one knee, and grips my thighs just above my knees, looking up at me.

“What happened?” His voice is rough, low, and laced with a dangerous edge. “Is it Max? Did someone else do something? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, but he’s already running his hands up my legs, as if checking for injuries. My breath catches, and I grab his wrists to stop him.

His jaw clenches. “Penny. Tell me.”

“I... I’m okay,” I whisper, but my voice cracks on the last word.

He looks up at me, his eyes piercing, and it’s like he’s looking for any sign of pain, any injury he missed. He stands back up but doesn’t release me. His hands move to cup my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t even know were still falling.

He’s so close, his presence so overwhelming, and I can barely think straight.

“Who hurt you?” His voice is softer now, like he’s trying not to scare me, but there’s a dangerous undercurrent in his tone.

More tears slip out, and I look down, squeezing his wrists. “It’s... Tyler,” I finally whisper.

His whole body goes rigid. I feel the change instantly—the tension in his hands, the barely-restrained anger coiled in his frame.

“What did he do?”

I close my eyes and take a shuddering breath. “He... He—”

But I can’t get the words out.

Asher gently tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. His own are narrowed, dark and intense, but there’s a softness there just for me.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

A sob breaks free, and I can’t help it—I bury my face in his chest, my hands clutching his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

He wraps his arms around me, careful of his injury, and holds me close, his lips brushing the top of my head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, strong and steady, and I wonder how someone like him—fierce and deadly and unbreakable—can be so gentle when it comes to me.