Which was good because that meant Kellan didn’t have to stifle his words, either. “I didn’t see your boy over there getting on his damn knees and thanking her for remaining pure for him. He was just as shocked as I was.”
Eric’s jaw tightened, his face going stony. “Of course I was shocked.”
“Don’t stop there. Spit it out. You weren’t any happier about her whole virginity thing than I was, you shit. You’re going to let me take all the blame though, aren’t you?”
It was typical. He always got to be the bad guy. He took the hits for the whole team while Tate and Eric sat back and played the good guys everyone loved. He might have earned it, but he was damn sick of it.
“You’re so far off the mark,” Eric insisted. “I’m glad that I’ll never have to picture Belle letting some random asshole grunt and sweat on top of her. Look, none of us imagined Belle would be a virgin. It was a shocker, but that just means it’s time for us to slow it down and talk a little. We sure as hell shouldn’t blow the whole thing up. Do you have any idea what you did to her by walking out?”
“I could have handled it better; I’ll give you that. But did you stop to think that she misled us a little? Tell me what virgin is ready to just hop in the sack with three men? She either didn’t know what she was getting into—and if that’s the case, it’s a good thing we stopped—or she didn’t really intend to be with all of us.” Kell couldn’t resist a sidelong glance at Tate. Being left in the cold was his buddy’s hot button, and if Belle hadn’t planned on embracing the big guy…well, better that he found out now before he fell even harder in love.
“She kissed me. That wasn’t a good-bye, you asshole.” Tate took that moment to curl up his fist and rear it back.
Kellan just stood there. Maybe this hurt would detract from the agony twisting his guts. The impact came, and he was surprised at just how hard Tate, a man who watched way too much science fiction television, could punch. Kell’s jaw took the brunt and pain flared through his system.
He saw red. It triggered his aggression. Immediately, he went on the offensive, putting every ounce of his roiling rage into his fists. Before he really knew what he was doing, he had Tate on the ground, pounding into the man who had been his friend for nearly a decade. When Eric tried to get between them, he just decked Eric, too—a hard crack to the chin.
“Stop. Please stop.” Belle’s shaky pleading broke through the furious haze that filled his head.
The three of them stopped everything, just froze as if someone had hit the off button to stop all motion. Vaguely, he was aware that his body ached. Blood trickled down his lip, but the shame that suddenly overtook him was worse than any physical discomfort.
Belle stood before them looking more stripped of confidence than he’d ever seen her. With eyes swollen and nose red, she’d obviously been crying. The sight of her tears kicked him in the gut, tearing through him in a way Tate’s fists couldn’t. Her pretty cocktail gown was wrinkled. Just minutes before, she’d been naked in his arms and she’d practically glowed. Now her light was gone, replaced with a deep grief stamped into her face. His words had done that to her.
“Please stop,” she said, her voice beyond weary. “I can’t stand the fact that you’re fighting, especially about me. Please.”
He scrambled to his feet because he couldn’t cause her another moment of pain. “I’m sorry, Annabelle.”
He took a step toward her, and she flinched back, shaking her head. “Don’t.”
Tate was on his feet, reaching out for her, but Eric stopped him.
“I’m going to go.” Belle looked down, focused on the shoes she held in her hand.
God, she couldn’t even look at the three of them. That fact, along with the sight of her bare feet, made him realize just how vulnerable she must feel. He’d made her self-conscious, stripped her bare. He couldn’t lie to himself. Eric might have been surprised, but Kell knew that if he hadn’t opened his mouth, the guy would have recovered. He and Tate would have not only saved the situation, but treasured her innocence.
Kell should have left her to the two men who would love her always, but he’d blurted out the first thing in his head, not even thinking about the possible outcome. He’d been shocked and bitter that he’d never be good enough for her. He hadn’t even realized how badly his words would crush her—more proof that he didn’t deserve her.
“Belle, I’m so sorry.” For so many things. That he’d upset her, yes. Mostly he was sorry that he was too damaged to show her how much she meant to him.
She gave him a shaky nod. “Me, too.”
As she headed to the door, Tate called her back. “Belle, let’s talk about this.”
She clutched the door handle and turned back. “I can’t tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the meeting.”
And then she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her with terrible finality.
“We can’t let her leave like this,” Tate said, starting after her.
Eric wedged himself between Tate and the door. “Give her a little time, man. I don’t think she’s up to talking tonight. Let her have some space. Once she’s less fragile and we’re less angry, we’ll all sit down and work it out, but now, we’ll only fight.”
“But she was crying.” Sometimes Tate was good at pointing out the obvious.
“We need to let her cry, if that’s what she wants.”
“She shouldn’t have to do it alone. She should know how we feel about her,” Tate argued.
“I think, deep down, she does. But if you go after her now, you’ll be sending her a message,” Eric explained. “She wants all of us. Contrary to dumbass’s suave speech tonight”—he pointed at Kell—“we all want her. If we’re going to make this right, we have to go after her together or not at all. And before we can do that, the three of us have to sit our asses down and hash this out because that was a total cluster fuck.”