Bad Boy Benefits

(51)

Song Above: She Knows J.Cole

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"That arsehole, that mother fucking asshole," Brody clenched his teeth and winched. He was tightly holding onto a icepack to ease his swollen knuckles.

There were bruises already starting to form, shades of purple contrasting his white skin.

Ouch.

We were sat in a small waiting room, what the guards had referred to as the quiet room and were hoping there were no charges to be pressed. The room was small with generic motivational posters, a basic coffee machine and a television that collected dust.

It was almost like a warped version of a time out space you'd put your disobedient child.

In this instance Brody had been disobedient. The guard had strictly said no touching the prisoner. So what does my beloved do? He full on Mike Tyson's his ass.

To say I wasn't proud would be an understatement.

That scum bag deserved it, he deserved more than what he had got. What he had told me when we were alone still played on my mind, his words echoing throughout my skull.

Darlin, I'd been paid to kill her.

I didn't want to believe or comprehend what that meant. What that would change.

Someone had wanted Brody's mom out of the picture, it wasn't a mere coincidence that she was outside a shop during a drive by shooting. They had driven by to specifically shoot her.

Could I tell him this?

It would break his already torn heart. I saw the look on his face when his mom was mentioned. I saw the pain in his eyes, the pain I was all too familiar, almost welcomed and I wouldn't wish that feeling on my worst enemy.

"Ivy, are you okay?" I felt warm fingers cup my chin and my face was titled to meet Brody's worried eyes.

His face was drawn, black circles already swooping under his eyes and his normally pink cheeks had lost all colour.

I couldn't tell him.

Not just yet.

"I'm fine," I lied.

I hated that I lied to him but it was the best I could do for now, until I figured out what I needed to do.

His eyes trailed my face, searching for something, what I wasn't too sure.

"I'm sorry that you saw that, I didn't mean to do that I just..." He trailed, dropping his hand onto his lap and looking down at it with an expression I could only describe as embarrassment.

My heart lurched.

"Don't ever be sorry," I said with so much vindication in my voice it made him look up, "That man, monster deserved what you did, god he deserved more and I hope karma bites him in the ass very soon," I gently placed my hand on his, it was warm and soft, "Brody, words can't even begin to describe how hard that must have been for you,"

He didn't say anything at first, instead he looked down at my hand and carefully turned it over so my palm was facing him. He brought a finger out and as if from memory he traced the lines and creases following roads, outlining a map to a place only he knew.

Every caress warmed my veins and accelerated my breathing.

It was dangerous just how potent his touch was.