Something in the Orange

Chapter Nineteen

"Help, I'm still at the restaurant, Still sitting in a corner I haunt, Cross-legged in the dim light, They say, "What a sad sight" "

Right Where You Left Me - Taylor Swift 

Death would have been preferable to the pounding in her head, her hangover had burrowed deep in her bones. Vee and Blair had stayed up until the sun rose draining Vee's supply of alcohol, before Blair stumbled home and Vee barely made it to her bed.

She had spent most of the day with her head in the toilet, the rest of it sleeping, nothing soothing her. She silently swore off alcohol as she pulled herself into a cold shower, washing her hair and sliding on fresh pajamas before stumbling to her kitchen in search of something to sooth her nausea. The evening's sunset filtering gently through her apartment, dust floating in the air.

Her eyes drift over dusty black boots hanging over the arm of her lounge "were you raised in a barn? Get your shoes off my couch" she drawls as she moves towards the kitchen.

Grabbing a bottle of water and swallowing two ibuprofen, she heads back to the lounge room. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Nestor. A black eye blooming, his cheek and lip split, dried blood on his face, his knuckles cut and bloody.

"Fucking hell" she mutters moving towards the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and a wet washer, she heads back to Nestor kneeling on the floor beside her. The heavy scent of whiskey pouring out of him.

"You should see the other guy," he murmurs, his eyes cracking open as he watches her gently clean his face.

She works slowly, methodically cleaning his wounds, applying antiseptic as past memories of the same situation merge with present time. Every week an old bruise heals while a new one blooms.

"What happened?" she mutters, moving onto his knuckles, his fingers warm in her palm.

Her hangover making it harder to push down the feelings blooming her chest. The softest of touches causing her stomach to erupt into a thousand butterflies.

"Why didn't you tell me it was Martínez?"

She sighs at his change of subject, knowing better than to wish for a straight answer from him.

"I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you." She murmurs as she cleans the blood from his knuckles.

"It's not your job to protect me Vee, it's my job to protect you" he growls, trying to push himself up.

Rolling her eyes she shoves his chest back down, watching carefully as he winces. She'd bet every dollar hidden in her apartment that he had taken a hit to his ribs.

"Tell me Nestor, if I told you it was Alejandro that day I woke up what would you have done? Seriously?"

She glares up at him as she moves to clean his wounds on his face. Leaning over him, his breath warm against her skin, sending butterflies straight to her stomach. She watches as his lips move, finding the right words, a storm of clouds behind his eyes.

"I would have tracked him down and torn him limb for limb."

"You would have died," she whispers, leaning back on her heels, flinching as pain radiates through her back and ribs.

"You almost died, Valentina, what did you expect me to do?"

"If you die, who is going to protect me?" She growls back slamming the first aid kit closed. "I can't lose you."