Falling

Chapter 8

Dean’s POV

My knuckles hurt.

My nose is bleeding.

My entire face probably looks like I lost an argument with a truck.

Worth it.

Absolutely worth it.

I would kill that son of a b***h!

But the only thing I can focus on right now,

Is Margaux.

She’s crying.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just silent tears slipping down her cheeks while she looks at me with those huge eyes that completely wreck me. She almost looks like deer in head lights.

And every ounce of anger drains out of my body.

“Babydoll?”

Her lip trembles.

And that does me in.

I move immediately.

“Hey, hey…”

I cup the side of her head carefully.

“Look at me.”

She does.

“I’ve got you.”

More tears.

“Dean…”

“Shh.”

“I called you and-”

“And I came.”

Simple.

Because there wasn’t another option.

Because she called.

And that’s all there is to it.

Luke appears beside me.

“Should I kill Ethan?” He jokes with Margaux.

“Luke.” Margaux says with a smile and sigh.

“What? Emotionally, obviously.” Luke replies.

Bryce sighs.

“You literally asked where we could hide a body.” Bryce jokes with me, trying to make light of the situation.

“Hypothetically!” I joke back.

Margaux actually laughs through her tears.

Thank God.

Because hearing her laugh again feels like oxygen.

“Dean,” Bryce says quietly.

“You should go.”

I nod.

“Yeah.”

Luke immediately points.

“I’ll drive your Jeep.”

“No, you are totally not coming.”

“What why?” He says in a baby voice shrugging his shoulders and realising a sigh.

“I’ve seen enough of you for one night.”

“But you’ll miss me.” Luke protests.

“Luke.”

He throws his hands up.

“Fine. Leave me then, all widowed.”

Five minutes later we’re outside.

Cool air.

Quiet.

No music.

No screaming.

No Ethan.

Just me and her.

Margaux stands beside my Jeep looking completely overwhelmed.

And suddenly…

She’s hugging me.

Not politely.

Not awkwardly.

She practically crashes into me.

And I freeze.

She’s shaking.

My arms wrap around her instantly.

Instinct.

Always instinct.

“Easy, Babydoll.”

Her face buries in my chest.

“I hated that.”

“I know.”

“I hated all of it.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t find Noah.”

And there it is.

That name.

Noah.

Something twists in my chest.

Not jealousy.

Not really.

Just…

Something.

Because she’s crying over another guy.

Because she spent the entire evening waiting for another guy.

Because I’m standing here bruised and bleeding and I’d still drive across the country if she called.

And somehow…

I can’t even resent Noah.

Because she’s upset.

And that matters more.

“He probably just lost track of time,” I tell her softly.

I am going to f*****g kill Noah when I find him though. I know for a fact that’s not what happened but I shove my objections down because that doesn’t matter right now.

Margaux matters.

Her voice is small.

“Maybe.”

But she doesn’t sound convinced.

And neither am I.

Obviously!

I don’t take her home.

Because when I ask -

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

She shakes her head immediately.

Too fast.

“I don’t want to be alone. Anna is with her boyfriend tonight.”

“Then it’s settled, you’re coming home with me.” I give a cheeky wink.

“Oh, definitely not! I can’t be seen going home with the hottest f**k boy!” She jokes.

“Oh right, not like I just nearly started a war for you, missy!”

She chuckles and hops in the Jeep. Making herself extremely comfortable in the passenger seat. She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs.

So I drive.

Neither of us speaks much but it’s not awkward.

She connected to the Bluetooth so her playlist is jamming. Peer pressure by James Bay and Julia Michaels is currently playing. Her window is slightly open blowing strands of hair in the air.

She falls asleep halfway there.

And I nearly drive into a lamppost.

Because she unconsciously leans against me.

Not much.

Just her head resting on my shoulder.

Soft hair against my neck.

Tiny breaths.

And suddenly my heart is trying to commit murder.

Lord, give me strength.

I live alone.

Which sounds cool in theory.

In reality it means there are dishes in my sink and approximately six hoodies draped over random chairs.

Makes me a little nervous.

Why?

Because Margaux is all about order.

I manage to get us inside. Margaux is a deep sleeper apparently because despite my efforts I couldn’t wake her up so I opted to sweep her up and carry her inside. I sit her down on the couch, trying to reach for a blanket to cover her.

I have never done this much effort for a girl.

Let alone allow them to spend the night.

I don’t do sleepovers because that’s when no strings attached becomes a rope.

Margaux wakes up long enough to blink sleepily around.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Your lip.”

“Still attached.”

“Dean.”

“Still handsome.”

She laughs softly.

Thank God.

An hour later she’s sitting on my bathroom counter wearing one of my hoodies holding a warm cup of tea while I try to clean the blood off my face.

Which is impossible.

Because she keeps looking guilty.

But also -

I know she’s wearing nothing but a thong underneath it. She looks unbelievably hot right now.

Her hair is messy, her makeup is smudged and she’s wearing my team hoodie.

Fuck!

I want her!

But -

I won’t say or do anything right now, not until she wants it…me.

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“That face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Babydoll, I’ve known you four weeks and I already know your guilty face.”

I turn around.

Fully.

I watch her as she is sitting on the counter.

Sure, I have dirty thoughts about her and all the things I want to do to her but right now…

She’s vulnerable, she trusts me. I feel this urge to protect her even though four weeks ago she repulsed me.

Nothing makes sense.

Do I like her? I don’t know…

I am Dean Sinclair I don’t date.

What I do know is…

I care about her.

“Nothing that happened tonight is your fault.”

“I should’ve just gone home.”

“No.”

“Yeah, I should’ve!”

“No.”

“You’re very annoying.”

“Occupational hazard.”

She smiles.

Small.

But real.

“Do I still look hot with my busted face?” I joke again.

But not really.

“The hottest” she says sarcastically.

I chuckle.

Dean inside of me is obviously giving himself a pat on the back.

It’s almost three in the morning when reality hits.

Margaux blinks around my apartment. Studying my art, books, decor and treating herself to an apartment tour.

“Where’s your guest room?” She asks confused, searching my face.

I freeze.

“…Funny story.”

Her eyes narrow and I frown appears on her forehead.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Babydoll, I live alone.”

“Dean!”

“Listen, in my defense, I thought I was being financially responsible.”

“Dean.”

“Fine. I spent the guest room money on concert tickets with Declan.”

She actually laughs.

Then looks toward my bed.

Then back at me.

And suddenly we’re both awkward.

Which never happens.

“I can sleep on the couch,” I say immediately.

“No.”

“Margaux -”

“No.”

She looks genuinely horrified.

“Your couch is tiny.”

“So am I.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m spiritually tiny.”

Despite herself, she giggles.

Then she grows serious.

“I’ll take the couch.” She protests.

“Absolutely f*****g not!”

“Why not?” She crosses her arms.

“Because I said so!” I feel bossy. Wow, new characteristic unlocked in the Dean life.

“Tell you what, we can share a bed…platonically…” I try to sound as confident as possible with my offering but I can tell she is still hesitant.

She pauses for a few seconds to think it through.

“Fine, but absolutely no cuddling or funny business!”

“I love myself an ultimatum!” I joke.

Ten minutes later we’re lying in my bed.

Fully clothed.

On opposite sides.

Enough space between us for an entire football team.

Unfortunately.

Staring at the ceiling.

Neither sleeping.

Neither speaking.

My mind on the other hand, totally thinking of f*****g her.

Until -

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

The word slips out before I can stop it.

Always.

What the f**k Dean!

She doesn’t seem to notice.

Because she’s staring at the ceiling.

“I still don’t understand where Noah went.”

And there it is again.

His name.

The reminder.

She’s thinking about him.

Not me

And somehow that thought hurts more than Ethan’s punch.

Fucker!

If I could strangle the asshole I would.

“Maybe his phone died.”

Or maybe his just a f*****g douche bag.

“Maybe.”

“You can yell at him tomorrow.”

I definitely want to do more to that son a b***h than just that.

A tiny smile.

“Would you pay to watch?”

“I’d livestream it with all the money in the world.”

That earns a soft laugh.

Silence again.

Then -

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

That catches my attention because I have no idea what will come out of her mouth next.

“In high school…I was sexually assaulted.” Her voice cracks.

Those words tear through me. I am shocked. I am speechless, I have a thousand thoughts but no words.

Out of everything I expected her to say it wouldn’t have been this.

“I am not telling you this for your pity, I don’t want to discuss the assault, I don’t want you to bring it up, ever…I just wanted you to know so you can understand why I was scared.”

“Margaux - ”

“Don’t say anything, I just wanted you to know.”

And something about those words destroys me.

Because she so vulnerable, open, trusting.

My chest feels the heated, I feel conflicted. Margaux was assaulted? What the f**k? I am burning with questions…

How?

Where?

Who?

I will literally rip him to shreds!

Without thinking, I turn my head. She’s already looking at me.

Eyes shiny in the darkness.

“Thank you for telling me, I won’t bring it up until you want to talk about it, but just know I will never allow anything even close to that happen to you again.”

And suddenly she’s crying again.

Not hard.

Just tears slipping down her cheeks.

And instinct takes over.

I move.

Not thinking.

Not planning.

I just open my arms.

And she immediately moves into them.

Like she was waiting for permission.

She curls against me.

Her head resting against my chest.

My arm wraps around her automatically.

And suddenly -

I stop breathing.

Because she’s here.

Because she’s trusting me.

Because she’s holding onto my shirt like I’m the only solid thing in the world.

And because this is probably the closest I’ve ever come to dying without technically being dead.

“Thank you Dean” she whispers.

“Always.”

“Sorry for ruining your night.”

I nearly laugh.

“Babydoll.”

My hand gently smooths over her hair.

“You called.”

She grows quiet.

And after a while -

Very quietly -

“I really liked Noah.”

Past tense.

Liked.

Not like.

Liked.

Interesting.

Dangerous thought.

Abort mission.

Immediately.

“I know.”

“And now I just feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“He disappeared.”

“He’s f*****g stupid.”

Shit! A little too much emotion there!

That earns the tiniest smile.

And eventually she yawns.

A sleepy little sound.

“I’m tired.”

“Then sleep.”

And twenty minutes later -

She’s asleep.

Completely.

Peacefully.

Meanwhile, I am very much awake.

Thinking about the assault, what he did to her…

I look down, Margaux Finch is sleeping on my chest.

And every time she moves, she snuggles closer.

Which should probably be illegal.

But somewhere around four in the morning -

She whispers something in her sleep.

So softly I almost miss it.

“Dean…”

Just my name.

Nothing else.

“I’m here, baby.”

Somehow that’s enough to completely ruin me.

Because she’s asleep.

Trusting me.

Safe.

And despite the bruises.

Despite the blood on my knuckles.

Despite the disaster of tonight -

I’d do it all again.

Every single second.

If it meant she got to sleep like this.

Safe in my arms.

Even if tomorrow she wakes up thinking about Noah.