Truly His | (Book 2) 18+

eighteen

CASEY
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The two of us were silent as I treated Hayden's busted knuckles. His entire body was as tense as when we met back at home and he didn't say a word as I sat him down, grabbed the rubbing alcohol, and began to clean the cuts. He silently sat in front of me in a white tank top and sweats, his muscles flexing every time he felt the slightest twinge of pain.

Hayden was one of the sweetest guys I've ever met and to see him explode the way he did earlier—it was almost scary to witness it. He didn't even hesitate. What was even worse was that he barely flinched once when I began to clean his wounds, and the cuts were pretty deep.

"Let me know if it's too tight," I mumbled, watching as his eyes flickered up to mine quickly before watching as I carefully wrapped his knuckles.

When I finished, I dropped his hand and began to clean up. Just as I was about to stand up, he gently grabbed my hand. I turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. Thankfully, he no longer had that stone cold look on his face as he looked over my features carefully, then pulled me closer to examine my forearm.

"Do you want some cream to stop the swelling?" He asked quietly, referring to the bruise that was on my forearm. "Maybe some ice?"

I shook my head with a slight smile. "No, it's okay."

Hayden looked like he wanted to say something but didn't get a chance before I walked away to put the first-aid away. I walked into the washroom and bent down to put everything away, sighing to myself.

"Casey," he mumbled from behind me, causing me to look behind my shoulder. He crossed his arms as he watched me. "You're scared."

"No, I'm not," I replied, watching the disbelief go through his eyes. He pursed his lips. "Not of you."

Hayden walked into the washroom, closing the door behind him. He took a cautious step towards me, expecting me to react; when I didn't, he hesitantly picked me up and set me in the counter.

"I wish you didn't have to see that," he muttered to me. He sounded almost disgusted with himself. "I'm sorry."

I frowned, cupping his cheeks. When our eyes met, he stared at me with guilt, and I leaned in slowly, kissing him. He sighed, lazily wrapping his arms around my waist before moving his head to my neck.

"Don't apologize, Hayden," I murmured.

Hayden shook his head. "You don't understand. I never want you to see that side of me, Case. Ever."

I sighed, nodding my head and kissing his jaw. He smiled softly and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pecking his lips next. Hayden rested his head on my shoulder and I played with his dark hair, a deafening silence passing through us.

"Does that happen often?" I murmured to him, watching his eyes squeeze shut.

"No," he bit out, but I knew it wasn't directed towards me. "Only when I get really mad. It's a horrible trait I got from my biological father."

I frowned, opening my mouth to say something, but he continued speaking:

"It was horrible in middle school," he admitted to me. "I had just wrapped my head around the fact that I was adopted and was angry as my biological parents, at Mom and Dad—at the world, basically. I was suspended a lot and got expelled from a school for getting in so many fights."