Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 83

The car ride home is quiet.

Too quiet.

She’s in the passenger seat, curled into herself, one arm across her body like she’s trying to keep it all in. I can hear her sniffle every now and then, but she doesn’t speak. I don’t either. I need to get a grip before I say something wrong. I’m too angry to talk right now—too angry at Tyler, at whoever the hell put their hands on her, and at myself for not being there sooner.

So I count my breaths. Grip the steering wheel tighter every time I feel a fresh wave of fury roll through me. Remind myself she’s here. She’s safe. She’s with me.

By the time we pull up to her house, my jaw hurts from how hard I’ve been clenching it.

She doesn’t wait for me to open her door. She gets out slowly, head down, like she’s afraid if she lifts her eyes everything will come rushing back.

She follows me inside, still silent, trailing a few feet behind. I leave the door open longer than necessary, just listening to her footsteps. When it closes, she heads to the kitchen like she’s moving underwater.

She gets a glass. Fills it. Hands shaking.

“Penny,” I say softly.

She doesn’t look at me. Just shakes her head, her back still turned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I step closer. “We have to.”

She stiffens. I don’t wait for her to argue. I reach forward, hands gentle but firm, and lift her by the waist onto the kitchen counter. She gasps, startled, but doesn’t push me away. Doesn’t tell me to stop. I stand between her knees, close enough to feel the tension humming off her like heat.

“Start small,” I say, voice calm, trying not to scare her. “How much did you drink?”

She blinks, like the question surprised her. “Not much. Just half a cup. That disgusting punch.”

I nod. “Okay. So not drunk.”

“No.” Her voice is small.

“What happened with Tyler?”

She hesitates. “He played beer pong. Then that game. I tried to stop him, Asher. I told him it was too much, but he wouldn’t listen.”

I nod again, though it’s not what I’m really trying to get to.

She looks at me then. “Why’d you leave him there?”

“Because he made a lot of bad decisions tonight,” I say, no hesitation in my voice. “It’s safer that way. For both of you. He needs to sleep it off and think of what he's done tomorrow. And I wasn’t about to bring him home and let him sleep under the same roof as you after what happened.”

She nods, the tiniest motion.

Then I take a step closer.

I feel her breath catch. Her legs tighten a little around me. Her eyes flick to my chest and back to mine.

I lower my hand to her thigh, thumb brushing over the angry red mark. “Tell me what happened here.”

She's breathing hard, staring at my hand on her leg. Her shoulders slump a little. “Some drunk guy. Outside. He wouldn’t back off.”

My jaw tenses, but I don’t speak. Just listen.

“He kept touching me. I tried to push him away. Then this girl—this random girl—pretended she was my girlfriend. Told him to get lost.” She lets out a weak little laugh. “Saved my life. She had piercings and the coolest pants I’ve ever seen.”

I nod, the corner of my mouth twitching.

She looks down. Smile fading.

Then I take her wrist.

Her arm trembles.

“What about this?” I ask, voice low, even. Not because I’m calm. I’m not. I’m barely holding it in. But I need her to know I’m not angry at her. Never at her.

She doesn’t answer.

I step even closer. My knees touch the counter now. Her legs part more, letting me in. I reach up, two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until our eyes meet.

“Penny,” I say again, quietly but firm. “Who did this?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Then, finally, in a whisper: “Tyler.”

It hits like a sucker punch to the gut.

“What?”

Her eyes drop. Her voice is almost inaudible. “I tried to take the drink from him. He grabbed my wrist. I don’t even think he meant to hurt me, he was just… so drunk.”

I feel the rage start to rise again, hot and fierce, but then her hands touch my chest.

“You’re shaking,” she says.

I realize I am. My muscles are locked tight, fists clenched.

I exhale, press my forehead to hers. She stills. Her hands remain pressed to my chest, not pulling away.

I breathe her in. Vanilla and something else—something warm and faintly sweet. Her.

She’s here. She’s safe. And right now, I don’t need to explode. I just need to make sure she feels that safety.

I take her hands from my chest and place them gently around my neck. Then I slide my hands under her thighs and lift her off the counter. She lets out a tiny noise and clutches me tighter, like she’s afraid of falling. Like she trusts me not to let her.

I carry her upstairs. Slowly. Carefully.

When I reach her bed, I set her down gently. She still hasn’t let go of my shoulders.

I crouch. Untie her boots. Slip them off. Then her socks. Her legs are red from being out in the cold too long. They're also incredibly smooth and I kick myself for even having that thought right now.

Another tear slips down her cheek.

I reach up and wipe it. She doesn’t flinch. Just watches me. I like that she's getting used to me touching her.

I move her slightly further into the bed, pulling the covers back and tucking them around her. I start to move away toward my bed.

Her hand shoots out. Grabs mine.

I look at her.

She whispers, “Stay.”

I hesitate.

She adds, “Please.”

I sigh, rub the back of my neck. Then I climb in beside her.

We lie on our sides, facing each other. There’s a good six inches between us. But her eyes search mine, and I can see the fear still living there.

So I close the gap.

My hand finds her waist. Her breath hitches. I pull her gently toward me, and she doesn’t resist. Just lets me gather her in like something fragile and precious.

I tuck her head under my chin. My other hand brushes through her hair.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For getting me out of another bad situation.”

I nod against her hair. “Always.”

There’s silence for a bit. Her breathing evens out.

Then, faintly, almost like a prayer: “Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”

I pull her closer, tightening my grip around her waist. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

She exhales, soft and slow. And for the first time in what feels like hours, she relaxes.

So do I.