Page 20 of Don’t Look Back

I crept around the side of the Thompson’s house, finding the door ajar. Once inside, I was lost. I entered into a bedroom, the sheets on the bed still crumpled. The TV was off, leaving the house in an eerie sort of silence.

“Ryan?” I called.

I listened for the sound of his voice, a thump, a cry—anything that would help me figure out where he was. I was reaching for my phone to call him when a door squealed open, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“I’m in here.” He still hadn’t come into view—but the blood splattered sink had.

I rushed over to the bathroom, and my stomach churned. “Oh, shit…”

Ryan leaned over the sink, blood trickling down his face and splashing to the porcelain. I followed the trails down his bare chest, where angry bruises were forming over his ribs. Jeans hung low on his hips, concealing any further injuries.

I shook my head to clear it, knowing that my roiling emotions weren’t going to help either of us. “Uh, towels?”

“Here.” Ryan began to bend down, but I rushed to stop him.

“You sit,” I instructed, pointing to the closed toilet seat. “I’ve got it.”

“God, this is going to take forever to clean up,” he muttered.

“Let’s worry about getting you cleaned up first.” As I pressed the clean, damp towel against his head, he lurched forward, pushing past me to spit out a mouthful of blood into the sink.

“I think I bit my tongue.”

Grabbing the glass from the counter, I filled it with water from the tap and offered it to him. “Who in the hell did this to you?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

My eyes widened. “Sawyer? I just saw him.”

“I… I had a headache; I just needed some Tylenol. He got me as I left the drugstore. I guess he wasn’t happy about being interrupted before.” Ryan swirled a mouthful of water around, spitting pink-tinged liquid into the bathtub this time. “Where did you see him?”

I took a deep breath, replaying the conversation I had with Grace in my head.

“I saw my ex today.”

Ryan nearly choked. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Did I⁠—”

“Don’t,” I told him. “The conversation was over before it even started.”

The next time Ryan rinsed his mouth, the water was almost clear.

I eased up on the towel. It hadn’t completely soaked through with blood, which gave me hope. I helped him sit up, resisting the urge to peel blood-matted hair away from his forehead. Instead, I busied myself by grabbing another clean towel, wetting it beneath the tap to clear some of the dried blood off him. “How’s your mouth?”

“Sore—but it’s fine.”

“Aw, come on. No dirty joke about how you’ve never had any complaints?”

Ryan peered at me through his lashes, offering a weak grin. “I’m not feeling very flirty right now. I’m… actually feeling pretty dizzy.”

“I’m not surprised. How in the world did you get from your car to here without leaving a trail?”

He gestured to the trash can. “I have my entire collection of drive-through napkins to thank for that.”

I gathered the blood-soaked towels into the sink and tried my best to rinse them out single handedly. “Do you need help showering?” I asked, hoping like hell he said no, but knowing I’d help him if he needed it.

“There’s no way I’m getting myself into that tub right now. I’ll clean myself up in the sink and crawl into bed so I can wallow.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t sit around covered in blood. You can shower at my place; I’ve got a walk-in.”