I Do

Chapter 37 - Never Let Go

Lauren’s Point of View

“Nash! Stop it! What are you doing?” My voice comes out shrill and screaming, and when I blink I am in the fray, yanking on Nash’s arm. He is straddling Zack and landing punches to his face. His perfect face. 

I want to cry so badly but all the attention in the room is on the two men quarreling on the floor and my arm pulling and screaming is to no avail. “Someone help!” I turn to the room full of conference members. 

When I look back down at Nash and Zack, where Nash last had the upper hand, I see Zack now has Nash pinned but isn’t pummeling him the way his adversary did him. He only stands, holding him at arm’s length. 

I stand back, shaking at being so close to Zack. 

He finally speaks, mopping a little blood from the corner of his mouth with his free hand. “I don’t know why you attacked me, but you need to stop making a fool of yourself.” Nash struggles against Zack’s grip, growing more red and furious by the second. 

Zack looks up at the crowd in the room, all still unmoving and staring at the same man that I am transfixed by, and he smiles a little. “Could everyone give us a moment?” I feel nerves reverberate through me as they shuffle and murmur out the door, shutting it behind them. 

“Let me go, or I’ll pound your face in again.”

Zack releases Nash’s collar and I cower back even more, terrified. Nash, on the other hand, looks pissed off enough to haul Zack out the window. Based on the display a few minutes ago, I doubt he could manage it. 

Silence surrounds us until I notice the river of blood coming from Nash’s hand. I gasp, running over to him unthinkingly. “Nash! Your stitches, they split open.”

“Ah.” he grimaces at me, a small hiss escaping through his gritted teeth. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” 

Both of our heads turn to Zack, who has his hand on the table and is examining my placard. I feel my capability of speaking slipping away each moment more that I spend in the room with him. “S-sorry?” I choke. 

“It isn’t nothing.” Zack repeats, looking into my eyes. “He’s lying. He cut his hand yesterday afternoon, maybe evening, on glass. The blood, the way it’s still fresh, proves that. Your worry, you stitched it, didn’t you?”

I can only blink. I shake my head in wonderment. “How...how did you know that?”

Zack looks at me again, and though a few moments ago when he looked at Nash his expression was hard and calculating, they soften the minute they land on mine. His mouth, swollen at the edges, does not smile, but it does the other thing it used to. Remembering sends shocks through me and I shudder.