Page 110 of Too Sweet
I take the hoodie from Logan and pull it over Mia’s head, not bothering with the sleeves. I tug the fabric until it covers her butt, then press her to me, caging her in my arms.
She’s not talking, and I’m not pushing. Not yet. She needs to calm down first. She’s too stiff. Her muscles have no give. It’s fucking unnatural because she’s always like playdough around me: adjusting to my rhythm, submitting to my dominance. Right now, she’s numb. Detached.
My brothers move away a few extra steps when more cops arrive while I’m wiping blood off Mia’s face.
It’s not easy. Cleaning dried blood off her skin using wet wipes is like cleaning red wine off a carpet with paper towels. I’m not making much progress, but she’s calming down the longer I do this, so I don’t stop.
“You’re so fucking brave,” I whisper, one arm draped across her middle. “You want something to drink?”
She nods softly, and Cody walks away before I can ask anyone to fetch a bottle of water from the bar.
Shawn comes out the restroom, a phone to his ear for a moment before he tucks it away, scratching the back of his head. By the look of him, he’s not seen anything like this before. “Does Mia need medical attention?”
“No,” she whispers. “I’m not hurt.”
He looks her over as if making sure she’s not lying. “Alright, take her home, Nico. Get her cleaned up, and we’ll take her statement later. I’ll need your statements, too,” he tells the triplets.
“We’ll do it at my place,” I say before Shawn pulls Johnny to one side.
Mia grips my shirt tighter, panic etched into her expression when I try to get us off the floor.
“We’re going home. I’m not letting you go, baby.”
I want to.
I want to pass her over to Cody and get my revenge on the two unconscious motherfuckers just behind the wall. I’d risk being detained if it meant punishing the ones who hurt my girl, but regardless of how much pain I could inflict, it wouldn’t help Mia.
She’d spiral deeper into her fear.
There are women walking this earth who’d judge her lack of self-sufficiency. They’d point fingers, try to toughen her up, and teach her what feminism is all about.
The thing is... Mia can take care of herself just fine if she has no choice. She almost raised herself, dogging her mother’s lack of interest, Jimmy’s career, and Aisha’s love of guys and partying.
But she doesn’t want to be independent. She doesn’t want to count only on herself.
And that’s probably why I fell in love with her so fast... because she fits me so well. She’s all I ever wanted without realizing. Ineededa girl like her. One who’d consider my protectiveness a good thing, not a leash.
She wants, needs, and expects to be cared for. I want, need, and expect her to let me do that.
We’re a match made in fucking heaven.
THIRTY
Nico
EIGHT.
That’s how many times Mia brushed her teeth before she let me kiss her. It was far from what I wanted. A tight-lip peck.
I’ve not let her out of my arms for one fucking second of the half hour we’ve been home. I bathed her, washed her hair, and almost doubled over when I noticed a shadow of a bruise forming on her face.
I dressed her, too, even despite her protests. She’s wearing my hoodie. The same one I wore last night when we sat in the garden, eating pizza. My heart squeezed tightly when she said she wanted it because it smells like me and calms her down.
She sits between my legs on the bed while I do a lousy job braiding her wet hair.
“He called meCootie Miain kindergarten,” she says, her voice detached, emotionless. “Andfour eyesin middle school because I wore very thick glasses.”
“He?” I part her hair in the middle for the third time, dividing it in three sections. “The guy who hurt you tonight?”
