Page 30 of Man of Honor
GAGE
I was bracedfor a face-first meeting with the hardwood floor, but just as the lights blinked out, a pair of strong arms caught me and broke my fall.The solid, unwavering strength of his chest was a shock, and I sagged against him, tethered by a lifeline I hadn't even known I was clawing for until I'd nearly shattered myself on his doorstep.
Darkness was streaking the corners of my vision, but I forced my eyes to stay open, latching onto his face like nothing else mattered.He was so damn handsome, it nearly broke me: the fierce line of his jaw, the dark stubble, and those even darker eyes blazing down at me.
If he was the last thing I ever saw, it would be worth it.
“You’ve got a hell of a way of saying hello,” Wyatt muttered, slipping one arm beneath my shoulders and hooking the other under my knees.Then he lifted me right off the ground, without so much as a grunt of effort, like I was a scarecrow made of straw.
I'd never been so flabbergasted.
“The p-princess carry? C’mon, man,” I complained through my teeth, trying to distract myself from the agony of being jostled.
“Shut up, Gage." There was raw anger in his voice."Unless you’re planning to get down and walk.”
His hands hurt, and it took everything I had to keep from crying out in pain as he kicked the door shut and carried me through the living room.For a second, I fooled myself into believing I could walk on my own, but I knew I wouldn't even get one foot under me before I collapsed.I wasn't making it anywhere without him, and we both knew it.
His smell was everywhere, cedar and smoke, comforting me and pulling me back to the last time he'd carried me like this.The last time I'd felt truly safe.
“Some things never change,” I mumbled blearily, resting my aching head on his shoulder.
He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me.
I’d only ever driven by his place when I was younger, catching quick glances that made me wonder what it looked like inside.Now that I was here, I could barely find the energy to care, but I had the impression of a space that was cozy and masculine, with rustic wood and high, open-beam ceilings.Simple and solid, with big, clean windows that let in a view of the creek.Built to last, just like the man who lived here.
He settled me on a worn leather couch as gently as he could, but I still groaned and squeezed my eyes shut.When I was pretty sure I wasn't about to puke, I opened them again to discover him kneeling in front of me.His eyes were all over me, cataloging blood and bruises in a methodical, professional way I couldn't even begin to process.
“Look at you,” he whispered hoarsely.His fingers brushed my face, so gently I barely felt their warmth.
I tried for a weak, wobbly grin and slurred, “You should see the other guys."
His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pressed into a thin line that told me he’d heard something he didn’t like.“How do they look?”
“I dunno,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably and then hissing.I’d only just realized I couldn’t move my left arm.It was impossible to pick out individual injuries when my body felt like one giant bruise.“K-kinda hard to keep track when it’s six-to-one.”
Wyatt went perfectly still. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t even heard me, but then I caught a look at his face and instinctively recoiled.I’d only seen that kind of raw, ugly fury a few times in my life—and it never ended well for me.
“Six…” he said in a voice so low it was barely more than a growl.
“They…w-weren’t bad odds,” I gasped, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like it was ripping me in half.The couch was buttery soft, but it may as well have been stuffed with rocks.“If they hadn’t gotten a couple lucky shots in the beginning, I might’ve taken ‘em.”
If I hadn't been sure of it before, I was now: that anger was directed solely at me.His hand tightened on the arm of the couch until his knuckles were white.“You think this is a joke?”
“Not a joke...but you’ve still got to laugh,” I said, growing more and more alarmed by the sudden pounding of my heart.It wasn’t fear, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t dying, but I couldn’t slow itback down.I hated to see him like this.It hurt even more than the beating.
Abruptly, Wyatt rocked back on his heels and dug his phone from his pocket, jaw clenched into a bloodless knot as his thumb hovered over the screen.
Panic spurted through me. “No!” I rasped, catching his wrist before he could dial.
His gaze snapped to mine, and the fury I saw was so strong and so violent I almost released him."You're beat to hell," he said in a voice so tightly controlled I wondered how it didn't shatter."You need a hospital, Gage. This isn't up for negotiation."
I held his stare, forcing myself to keep breathing despite the pain.“I’ll crawl out your fucking door before I go back to the hospital,” I threatened.“What’ll Vanderhoff do if I’m mixed up in two fights in as many weeks?Besides…I don’t…I don’t want my brothers to know.”
He glared, clearly not swayed.“They’re going to find out sooner or later.”
“Then later,” I ground out, putting all my strength into pulling his hand away from the screen.“If they see me like this…it’ll be bad.You know that.”
Wyatt’s nostrils flared as if my words only made him angrier.“They deserve to know you’re putting yourself in danger like this.”