The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,113
I have to shake them out every few minutes, which isn’t good for my game or my guitar playing. I need to fucking relax.
But when the girl you care about more than life itself is suffering, you can’t. It’s just that simple.
By the time I make it, I’m a rattled mess. Still running on adrenaline, and ready to tear that drunk asshole completely apart. Not that he’s going to cross my path anytime soon. He better hope not, because I will fuck that guy up, and then I’ll end up being the one sitting in jail.
I knock on the door, pacing the front porch. It swings open immediately, and an older version of my girlfriend is standing on the doorstep, blinking up at me before she breaks out into a gentle smile that has me staring mutely at her.
Ellie looks just like her. It’s uncanny, the resemblance.
“You must be Jackson,” she says. “I’m Renata. Ellie’s mom.”
“Nice to meet you—” I start.
She jerks me into a hug, surprisingly strong for such a small woman. I return the hug, finding comfort in the tight grip of her arms. The way she holds me, like a mom should. Something I don’t get much of. I’m not close to my parents at all. Since I’ve been in college, I rarely see my dad, and I used to consider us close. I appreciate how welcoming Ellie’s mom is. “It’s so nice to meet you too,” she says after she releases me, looking a little flustered. “Come in, come in.”
I walk inside the house, glancing around. It’s small but clean, and I can smell a candle burning. It’s homey looking, the furniture a little worn, but I bet that couch is comfortable. I glance to my left, spotting a photo of Ellie on the wall right next to where I’m standing. She’s young, like in elementary school, her hair in two ponytails on either side of her head, and she looks absolutely adorable. I smile as I study it.
“She’s in her room,” her mother tells me, her voice soft. “I insisted she come home for the weekend, so I can take care of her.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, my voice grave. I don’t want any bullshit. I need someone to be straight with me.
“She looks—terrible.” She tries to smile, but it wavers, and she gives up. Her face appears ready to crumple at any second, and I really hope she doesn’t start to cry. I don’t do well with women and tears. They make me uncomfortable. “But my girl is strong. I’m so proud of her. She tried her best to fight that guy off.”
“I bet she did,” I murmur, never doubting Ellie’s strength for a second. “Do you mind if I go see her?”
“Oh, of course. She wants to see you. She keeps asking about you. Her room is the last door on the left,” her mother says, shooing me down the hall. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure her as I make my way down the hall. I slow down as I approach the door, hesitating in front of it. It’s partially open, but I hear no noise coming from within the room, and I wonder if she’s sleeping.
I don’t want to disturb her.
But I’m dying to see her.
Slowly, I open the door to find her in bed lying on her back, her head propped up on a stack of pillows. Her eyes are closed, and her face…
Holy shit her face.
Tony didn’t lie and neither did her mother. She looks fucking awful. Two black eyes have caused dark purple and yellow bruising. There’s a bandage across the bridge of her swollen nose. She looks like she got into a fight and lost.
Rage fills me and I clutch my hands into fists, wishing I could hit something. Someone. It hurts me to see her hurting. My chest aches. My heart pounds. That asshole tried to hurt her, and for no real reason. He could’ve done serious damage to my girl. I’m just grateful she’s still here. Alive.
She must hear me because her eyes crack open and she studies me from where I’m standing across the room.
“Jackson. You made it.” She tries to smile, but she winces, giving up. I’m sure she’s in pain. “I look terrible.”
“Yeah,” I croak before I slowly make my way toward the bed. “But what’s the other guy look like?”
“Terrible. Even worse because he’s in jail.” She closes her eyes, lying still for a moment as