Chapter 2: The Grumpy Savior (Samantha's POV)
1178 Words
Marcus’s fingers bit into my arm.
“Stop walking away from me,” he said, breath sharp in the cold. “We’re not done, Sam.”
My chest still hurt from the image of him with that blonde on his couch. The way he could easily turn to another just because I was busy.
How long has this been going on?
“I’m done,” I said. “Let go.”
He yanked me closer. “It meant nothing. You’re overreacting like you always do.”
“A girl in your arms isn’t nothing,” I shot back. “Let me go, Marcus.”
He tightened his grip. “You’re not just going to storm off and pretend we’re done.”
“Let. Her. Go.”
The new voice cut through the air, low and flat.
Marcus froze. I ripped my arm free and stumbled back, turning toward the sound.
He stood a few steps away, snow catching on his dark hair. Tall, broad shoulders, hands in his jacket pockets like this was almost boring. Gray eyes watched Marcus with calm, cold focus.
I knew him. Everyone in town did.
Jaxon Lee. Captain of the Silvercrest Wolves. Hockey star and one of the most elusive men in town.
My heart stirred at the sight of him, recognizing the quiet power in his stance.
Marcus squared up. “This isn’t your business,” he snapped. “Walk away.”
Jaxon did not move. “She told you to let go.”
“That’s between us,” Marcus growled. “Mind your own business.”
I swallowed. “Marcus, just stop. I’m leaving.”
He ignored me.
Jaxon took a slow step forward. “You grabbed her,” he said. “That makes it my business.”
Marcus shoved his shoulder. “Back off, Lee.”
Jaxon didn’t even sway. “Bad idea.”
Marcus swung.
It happened fast. His fist came up; Jaxon turned, caught his wrist, and shifted his weight. Marcus’s feet slipped on the snow, and he went down hard with a grunt.
My eyes widened.
Marcus scrambled up, face red. “You—”
He lunged again.
Jaxon moved between us, his body a wall. His voice dropped lower, edged with command. “Stay down, Blackwood.”
The air thickened. I felt it, a pressure along my skin.
Marcus faltered mid-step. His eyes flickered, instinct warring with temper. He forced a laugh. “You don’t order me.”
“You’re still here arguing,” Jaxon said. “So maybe I do.”
He let go of Marcus’s wrist with a sharp shove. “Don’t touch her again.”
Marcus glared at me. “So this is what you wanted? To make me look bad in front of him?”
“You did that yourself,” I said.
His jaw worked. “You’ll regret this, Sam.” His gaze cut to Jaxon. “Both of you.”
He stomped back to his house. The door slammed. Silence dropped over the street.
I exhaled, shaky. My wrist throbbed. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets so Jaxon wouldn’t see them tremble.
He watched the closed door for a second, then looked at me. He didn’t mention how ruined I looked.
“You okay?” he asked.
The question stung. I straightened. “I’m fine.”
His eyes flicked to my wrist where the skin was red. “That your version of fine?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Thank you for…stepping in. You can go now.”
One eyebrow lifted. “You always talk like that to people who save you from getting your arm broken?”
“I had it under control,” I muttered.
He huffed. “Sure.”
Annoyance pricked through the numbness. “Do you always sound this annoyed?”
“Do you always make this much noise in one night?” he shot back.
A weak laugh escaped me.
I turned away. “It’s late. I need to go home.”
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
“I took the bus.”
He sighed, long and put-upon. “Of course you did.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the buses stopped an hour ago, it’s freezing, and you’re on the wrong side of town,” he said. “You plan to walk the whole way?”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’re shivering.”
“It’s snowing,” I snapped. “That’s what people do in winter.”
He stepped around to face me again. Up close, he seemed even bigger, the air warmer near him. I had to resist the primal urge to lean into him.
“You shouldn’t walk alone,” he said. “Not tonight. Not when you look like that.”
My heart kicked. “Like what?”
He held my gaze. “Hurt. Scared. Lost.”
A chill slid down my spine. “I’m not your problem.”
He shrugged. “Too late. I already stepped in.”
I hated that the words made something in me loosen, just a little.
He jerked his chin toward the side street. A dark pickup idled under the streetlamp, headlights bright in the snow.
“My truck’s there,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
I stared at the truck, then at him. His face was unreadable, set in that permanent annoyed look, but his eyes were steady.
“I don’t get in cars with strangers,” I said.
“You know my name,” he answered. “Half the town wears my jersey. That’s not stranger.”
“That’s the problem.”
He almost smiled, then didn’t. “Look,” he said quietly, “I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m trying to make sure your i***t ex doesn’t try again.”
My stomach twisted at the thought. I hugged myself tighter.
“No strings,” Jaxon added. “You get in. I drive. You get out. That’s it.”
I had heard lines like that before. Not from him, but from another man who swore everything was simple until it broke me.
My chest pulled tight. “That’s what they all say.” I was not sure I could believe anyone again. The cold bit hard into my legs.
“I’m not ‘they,’” he said. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Snow fell, soft and steady. My pride told me to walk away. My body wanted warmth. A warmth only his presence could provide.
He stepped back a little, giving me space. “Your choice, Samantha.”
The way he said my name sent a small shiver through me.
I looked at the warm glow inside the truck, at the empty street behind me, at the direction Marcus had gone, then back at the man waiting with his hands in his pockets, stubborn enough not to move unless I did, as my feet slowly started to turn toward the truck.
“If you insist.” I muttered.
- Writer
