Page 4 of Falling With You

One hand grabbed my neck, the other pulled on my hair.

And when the hot, putrid breath slid across my neck, I knew it wasn’t Aiden.

“What?” I asked, trying to get words out. Suddenly, another hand was on my neck, and I knew there was more than one man.

And those hands were big, rough, and callused.

They smelled, they were dirty, and they were on me. Someone pushed me into the brick wall of the alley, and I screamed. Only no sound really came out because there was still a hand over my mouth.

Tears formed in my eyes at the pain as my cheek scraped the brick, but I couldn’t freak out, I had to get out of this. Hadn’t I just told Aiden that I was safe?

I tried to reach for my phone, but the guy took it and tossed it down the alley, the crunching sound echoing in my head.

“Bitch. Give me all your money.”

But he was tugging at my purse, hard enough that the strap dug into my shoulder. I knew it would leave a bruise. I kicked out, trying to remember what I had learned from that week of self-defense classes I had taken.

They hadn’t been enough. I had been so sure that I was safe, that I was making mistake after mistake now that I wasn’t.

There were three of them with grabby hands tugging on my coat, my purse. They weren’t touching me anywhere else, they were being very careful not to. Maybe I was just blocking it all out.

I fought back, kicking and trying to scratch them. But one man had his hand firmly around my wrist, squeezing so hard I thought he might break it. My hand opened, my keys fell out, and the cat ears that were supposed to save me did nothing.

And then the men were off me, and I could breathe again.

I hit the ground, my knees radiating sharp pain.

And Aiden was there, punching, kicking, using his fists all on one man’s face.

I tried to get to my feet, but I was achy, and my head felt light.

I hadn’t even realized that the man’s hand had been so tight around my throat earlier, squeezing. I’d been so far in my head, trying to figure a way out, that I hadn’t realized I hadn’t been breathing.

And then there was the sound of feet against pavement as the three men ran, and Aiden was on the ground next to me, holding me.

“Sienna? Sienna? Talk to me. What’s wrong? What hurts? God, baby. I’m so sorry.”

I was on his lap, and he was holding me, one hand cupping my face, the other held close to his body. I looked down and instantly knew something was wrong.

Aiden, the talented and amazing chef, the one that used his hands to create masterpieces, was holding his hand in such a way that I had a feeling it was broken.

Broken on someone’s face. To protect me.

And that was my fault. He was hurt. All because I had told him to go away. Because I’d thought I was strong enough.

Because I’d thought I could handle it on my own.

But obviously, I couldn’t.

“Sienna?”

“I tr—I—” I tried to get out words, but I couldn’t, so Aiden just kissed my temple and held me close, and I tried not to lean into him, tried not to do anything. Because I didn’t want him to be hurt again.

It was my fault that he was hurt, my fault for everything.

I didn’t even realize I was shaking until he was whispering soft, soothing things into my ear that I couldn’t decipher.

“It’s okay, I called the cops, they’re coming. They’re coming, Sienna. Just hold onto me. You’re going to be fine.”