Tragic

Chapter Twenty-Five: In The Blood

Hunter

The vulnerability in Elliot's eyes paralyzes me. It's not just me that's terrified I won't be enough. We're both scared neither one of us is capable of providing the other with what they need. Maybe we're not—or maybe we're two perfectly flawed people with so many rough and torn edges they'll fray and fit together beautifully.

I gently smooth the hair back from her face and lean down to press my lips to her skin. "It's yours, Elle." I grab her hand and place it on my chest, and my heart pounds against it. "That's not a question, that's the problem." I take an unsteady breath. "I'm so fucking in love with you that it brings out the worst part of me."

She shakes her head. "There isn't a worst part of you. You're a good guy—"

"I'm not," I say, cutting her off with a bitter laugh. Her eyes are incredulous when they meet mine, but I don't falter. "I'm not, Elle. I had a shit life for most of it, and I struggle with the aftermath that it caused."

Elliot's face tenses. She's trying not to react to what I'm saying. I know she wants to protect me from judgment, but it will come anyway. A story like mine always does.

I roll over on my back and lace my hands across my chest. My eyes fix on the ceiling, so I don't have to see hers while I speak. "Where do I begin?" I sigh heavily and the bed shifts beside me, and I feel her move closer. Her fingertips inch toward mine, and I slide my hand over to meet them. "I used to get in trouble a lot as a kid. Getting into fights at school or at a friend's house—didn't matter where really, I was usually hitting someone."

Another bitter laugh escapes me. "My father taught me how to fight. It mostly came from him beating on me, but I learned a thing or two."

I smirk at her in an attempt to lighten the mood, but she's not amused.

I sigh. "I was like this all through school until I hit ninth grade. I was gone more with soccer and stuff so that left more time for him to focus his rage on someone else." I clench my fist and grit my teeth when I think of my mother. "I wasn't going to let him hit her. You never raise your hands to a woman—especially not someone you love."

I risk a glance over at her, and there are tears in her eyes. Unable to stand it any longer, I turn on my side and tuck her into my chest. "I would never hurt you, Elliot. Ever."

"I know," she whispers.

I lean back so I can see her face, gently cupping her check. "You have to know that. Everything I do is to protect you. The way he acts—I don't like it. It fucking scares me."

She leans back from me a little, and I move my hand down to rest on her hip. "Judah's not scary, he's sad."

I shake my head. Sadness leads to anger and anger leads to violence. It's only a matter of time before he loses his shit, and I'm not going to stand around and wait for it to happen. Especially since she's with me now. It's my most important job to keep her safe.

"Sad or not, it's not right the way he was acting." I press my finger to her lips when she starts to protest. "What I did wasn't right either." I lower my hand. "I know that."

Her face softens, and she lowers her eyes to the space between us. "I'm glad because I never want to see that again." She looks up at me with a more serious expression. "I mean it. Judah and I are going to be in each other's lives. Our families are long-time friends, and he's my friend, too."