Bittersweet (Redemption #3) - Jessica Prince Page 0,19

three words leaving me speechless. “Should never have come here.” He whipped around before I could form a reply and started for the door. With his fingers on the handle, he looked over his shoulder and said, “And just so you know, I didn’t start that fight. That Ronny guy’s a dickhead, and he got exactly what he deserved.”

I was suddenly hit with a spike of fear at the thought of him leaving. It was irrational and frantic. My brain was screaming at me to just let him go, that this boy was all kinds of hazardous to my well-being. However, there was another part of me—a much larger one—that snuffed out that voice in my head.

“Jensen, wait,” I called, panic tangled in my voice. “I-I’m sorry.” He stopped, the door pushed halfway open as he looked back at me. “I shouldn’t have said that. Please just . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I mean, I hardly knew this guy, and I certainly didn’t understand everything he made me feel. I didn’t want to beg him to stay, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. “We have a first aid kit in the back. Will you let me take a look at your hand?” He released the door handle, letting it swing closed once more before turning to face me fully. He remained quiet, standing there like he was waiting for something, and as I stared into those stormy eyes, I felt my lips part and the word please come out in a whisper.

The sense of relief I felt when he started back in my direction was so intense it actually scared me, but I pushed on. He followed me wordlessly to the employee breakroom where the first aid kit was stored. He sat perfectly still as I flipped the lid open and rummaged around for what I needed.

The silence in the room as I dabbed at the cuts that spread across all four knuckles was stifling, making the air thick and uncomfortable. I chanced a peek at him from under my lashes, seeing for the first time that those stormy eyes were completely flat, devoid of all emotion. That smug shield he wore was gone, leaving nothing but icy indifference behind.

I hated it.

Unable to take it for another second, I sucked in a bracing breath and started talking. “You were right. Ronny Culpepper is a raging asshole.” All I got from that was a huff, so I pushed on. “And I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t cool. I’m sorry for accusing you of starting that fight. Knowing Ronny, I’m not surprised at all to hear it was him.”

The heaviness in the room began to lighten. Jensen blew out a deep sigh, his breath tickling the skin on the side of my neck as it drifted past, making me shiver.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

I looked up at him. Seeing the spark in those dark grays start to come back to life made my lips tilt up in a tiny smile. “No problem,” I whispered before I looked back to his damaged hand. “So . . .” I hedged, my curiosity getting the best of me. “These cuts look fresh. You wanna tell me where they came from? ’Cause I’m pretty sure they didn’t happen when you kicked Ronny’s ass.”

“Things got kind of heated between me and my closet door.”

His tone was much lighter, as if he was trying to make a joke out of it, but my head shot up. My lips parted and my eyes went wide in shock. “You did this to yourself? Why would you do that? How? I mean . . . it had to have hurt like hell.”

The humor fled from his expression, replaced with a look of uncertainty. “I didn’t feel it when I was doing it.”

I turned my attention back to doctoring his hand, tossing the used alcohol wipes aside and peeling open the bandages. “Okay. But . . . why did you do this? Were you mad or something?”

I wasn’t sure why I was pushing, but for some reason, it felt like the answers were just too important. The seconds ticked by at a freakishly slow pace before he finally answered reluctantly. “Let’s just say things in my life aren’t as easy as you assumed they are.”

For some reason, that answer made a knot form inside my chest, and when I looked up at him, I was sure he could see the emotions I