Breathtaken (Marcus Butler)

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

I walked slowly up to the hotel room, fumbling around in my small bag for a while before I found the key card. Sighing, I swiped it through, unlocking the door. I was about halfway through when I began to hesitate, wondering whether I would find Marcus in here. Thankfully, one peek around the corner confirmed that I was alone, for now at least. I didn’t know how long it would be before he came back, so the first thing I did was wash my face and change into one of Marcus’ t-shirts to cover my underwear since I didn’t want to wear my pyjamas. I usually enjoyed this part of the day, but the moment I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, I felt physically sick. My cheek was swollen to the size of a golf ball, and indeed there was the unmistakable mark of a ring having split open the skin. It horrified me that I’d had this injury inflicted upon me from one single punch. I didn’t waste another moment before ringing up room service and asking for a bottle of wine. I would have just asked for the ice in the bucket, but I’d not actually finished my drink earlier and, well let’s face it, the primary intention of the night had not been achieved. I was pissed, but not from the consumption of alcohol. No, I was just pissed off instead. I tried not to let this show to the kind waiter who delivered the wine, craftily shielding my face as I answered the door and thanking him. As soon as I closed the door, I pulled the bottle out and placed it on the side, taking the ice into the bathroom. I found a fresh towel on the rack, and without a second thought, emptied the entire contents of the bucket on to the towel. Ice spilled everywhere, but I was in one of those moods where I just didn’t care and lazily spread it around with my foot. I wrapped up what had actually managed to make it on to the towel, making myself a good ice pack. Cautiously, I pressed it against my cheek, but it didn’t feel as though it was helping and I found it difficult to keep it pressed on. I hissed in discomfort as I trudged back to the bed, grabbing the bottle of Pinot Grigio on the way past. No sooner had I flopped comfortably down on to the plush mattress than I realised I hadn’t picked up a glass.

“Fuck it,” I shrugged, unscrewing the lid and drinking straight from the bottle. There was nothing interesting on TV, so I turned my attention on to my phone, checking a few missed calls I’d received in the last few hours. One was from Marcus’ mum, which surprised me really since she usually called Marcus’ phone if she wanted to talk to me, but I didn’t want to ring her back right now for fear of her asking how Marcus was. Another call was from my own mum, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her right now either. She always rang me at the same time every Friday night in the hope of getting me to talk to her, but I refused to answer. I’d accidentally thrown my phone at Marcus once when she called, so he’d answered it as a way of getting his own back. She obviously asked Marcus about me, but she didn’t ask why I never answered the phone. She knew it was her fault, no doubt. I sighed in annoyance, deleting her voicemail before I’d even listened to it. If my mum ever came back into my life again, it would be under my terms, just like it was under hers when she kicked me out of my own home. I subconsciously tensed my jaw just thinking about it, but I refused to let that woman get to me when I’d been doing so well without her for this long. No, instead I took another long swig from the wine bottle and resorted to texting back Louise who had asked how the holiday was going. I told her all about the fun Marcus and I’d had in the past week, rather than the drama we were in at the moment. I told her about the scuba diving trip, when we went paragliding, when we went to a cute little market and Marcus had bought me a diamond-encrusted ring (which I had to reassure Louise was not on the fourth finger of my left hand) and not forgetting to miss out the crisis I had a few days ago when I found a live crab in my bag on the beach and nearly shit myself. Alfie and Miranda had been with us that day, so for them it had been pretty entertaining watching me trying to get it out with a pair of eyebrow tweezers because it was slowly destroying the threading in the lining of my handbag. Louise told me of a similar incident she’d had on her own honeymoon where Matt had found a live jellyfish and threatened to put it in the outdoor swimming pool at their villa unless Louise admitted she’d nicked the last packet of Haribos the previous day. I laughed, and it felt good to do that in my current state. Now I didn’t feel I was drowning my sorrows in wine so much, but rather enjoying a nice drink as a way of relaxation. I’d discarded my ice pack a while ago, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of my mind telling me to use it or face the consequences tomorrow morning. Eventually, my conscience got the better of me and I braved trying it again, distracting myself with mine and Louise’s current conversation. After several moments of gently dabbing my sore cheek, I managed to keep it pressed on fully, and the pain began to ease. I was just typing out another paragraph of an answer when suddenly I heard the door click, and my reflexes instantly kicked in. I put my phone down, unmuting the TV, and waited. Marcus kicked his shoes of, and, with anxiety evident in his stride, appeared from around the corner. We both assessed each other from afar, and I was shocked to find just how hurt he was. I’d expected a few lumps and bumps much like my own, but no…it was much worse than that. He had one black eye, a swollen and cut lip, a practically bulging pink cheek and bandages on both hands. In the end, I couldn’t face him anymore and turned my attention back to the TV, although the programme that was on was more than boring. A single tear rolled down my cheek that I wasn’t aware of until it fell from my face and splashed onto the back of my hand. Neither of us said a word. Marcus eventually trudged off to the bathroom and returned minutes later in only his boxers. I didn’t look for too long, but a single glance was enough. His chest was covered in red marks, no doubt caused by the literal pounding Daz gave him. He didn’t attempt to speak to me until he’d slipped in to bed beside me, his body facing the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, and I realised then that he’d turned away to hide his tears from me. Why did he feel like he had to be tough right now? I’d seen him tough only hours ago, and I’d rather have fucking cry baby, wimpy Marcus than hard, brutal Marcus to be honest.

“I’m sorry too,” I replied, another few tears involuntarily escaping. I flicked off the TV, replacing the lid on the almost-finished wine and discarding it on the floor in between the bedside table and the bed. After checking my phone was plugged in, I slid further down in bed, punching the pillows until they felt right. I eventually turned the light off when I was comfortable, but I knew even trying to sleep would be pointless. Hesitantly, I turned to face Marcus’ bare back, and even in the dull moonlight, I could see at least that part of him was free of marks. The muscles in his shoulders were prominent above the covers, and I couldn’t stop myself from tracing them with my index finger. Marcus flinched, but he didn’t stop me.

“I only blame you for hitting him, not me,” I mumbled, kissing the trail my finger had travelled across. When Marcus didn’t respond, I encircled my arm around his waist, cuddling into him. I knew he felt guilty but he only had to feel guilty about acting like a careless dick, not for hurting me. That was an accident, and he knew I was aware of that.

“I know,” he whispered, but he didn’t elaborate. Slowly, he rolled over to face me, our foreheads pressing together. I reached up to touch him, but he hissed and that’s when I remembered his injuries. I flashed him an apologetic glance and he responded by entwining our fingers under the covers, bringing them up to his lips and kissing them softly. He then proceeded to lean forward, hovering above my swollen cheek before kissing it ever so sweetly. It made me smile, the feeling more comforting and relieving than any old ice pack.

“I just love you so much, and I always have. You’re my best friend, my beautiful girl and I just know there’ll never be anyone but you, and even if there was, nobody would ever compare. That’s why I act this way,” Marcus cooed, kissing my forehead to emphasise his point. A single tear rolled down my cheek at his words, and I couldn’t be mad at him for all of this. Yes, he may have acted thoughtlessly, but he was doing it all for me, and that was the biggest compliment he could have ever given me.

“You didn’t think I’d cheated on you, did you?” I asked anxiously, my eyes brimming. I couldn’t make out Marcus’ expression in the dim light, but I could have sworn he smiled.

“No, I didn’t. I’d trust you with my life. I just hated the thought of that bastard trying to have his way with you. I could have fucking killed him, I mean it,” Marcus replied, but he was still speaking in a low whisper despite his firm tone. I nodded, unsure of what to say. What if Marcus had killed Daz? Didn’t I say I wouldn’t visit Marcus in prison?

“I’m glad you didn’t,” was all I managed to say, not able to meet Marcus’ gaze. He sighed, leaning forward and ghosting a kiss on my lips. I tried to lean in to the kiss harder, but he winced, reminding me yet again of the injury he had attained to his lip. I frowned, reaching up and grazing my index finger across his bottom lip tentatively. His entire face looked so painful, and I wondered how much it must hurt to smile or move his face in any way.

“I can’t believe I…” Marcus began, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. He was referring to my cheek, obviously. But I didn’t want to broach that subject, not right now.

“It’s not important, it was an accident. Don’t feel guilty about it, please. I was expecting to attain some sort of injury since I freely put myself between two men who were scrapping like savage dogs,” I reassured, light-heartedly. Marcus began to giggle, but I think it must have hurt him because he stopped quite quickly. I frowned with sympathy, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. We didn’t speak after that, just stared at each other in the light of the moon and tried to heal each other with kisses. Eventually, my eyes began to feel heavy, and it wasn’t long before I fell asleep in his strong, bruised arms.