I watch in amazement as he gently pulls the tissue away, frowning when blood still seeps out of the wound. He looks into the basket, pulling a dish towel out, before pressing it down on the cut, eyeing me with concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  Shaking myself out of how quickly he moved and how carefully he’s treating me, I nod. “The knife slipped.”

  “I know.” He grimaces. “You should have let me do it.”

  “I’m not defenceless, you know.”

  He looks up at me, his eyebrows drawn together. “I know you’re not. I know you can take care of yourself. But I could have opened it.”

  “I don’t like blood,” I whisper, the coppery smell overwhelming me.

  “It doesn’t look deep, so it should stop in a minute,” he tells me soothingly.

  I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay as our eyes lock. “Thank you.”

  “Go out with me,” he whispers. Not what I expected to come out of his mouth at all.

  Mouth agape, I study him, trying to gauge whether he’s being earnest or not. There’s no denying something has shifted between us today, like he’s finally letting his guard down in front of me, but it doesn’t change the fact he hurt me.

  “I can’t,” I whisper, looking down at our joined hands for a brief second.

  His eyebrow lifts and his chocolate-coloured eyes begin to study me. “I really am so fucking sorry I hurt you, Paisley,” he rumbles, his voice low and pained.

  Questions that have had me crying into my pillow every night burn to the surface. “Why did you leave me on the side of the road like that? I know you said you were scared, but why not take me home? Why treat me like you do the other girls in your life? And why… God, why has everything suddenly changed now?”

  For years I wanted to matter to him, to be noticed. But not like this, not out of pity. He didn’t promise me forever, he didn’t promise me tomorrow, but somewhere deep down, I feel like that’s what he’s asking for now.

  He brushes a piece of hair away from my face, sending my body into overdrive once again.

  “Honestly?”

  My breath hitches, and I wonder if I really want to know the answer or not. I don’t know how, but I know whatever he’s going to say is going to cut deep. It will hurt, there’s no doubt about it, but do I want honesty from him? Yes. Yes, I do.

  “Honesty is all I ever want,” I tell him, keeping the doubt out of my voice.

  He sighs, switching the hand holding the towel over my cut. “I wasn’t lying when I said I got scared. I knew being with you was different from how I used other girls to drown out the grief of losing Freya.” He takes a breath, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “All my life I’ve felt different from everyone else. I never understood why, because I have amazing parents, a great family, and have had the best upbringing. I love each and every one of them. But other people?” he says, his gaze distant. “It was like ice would run through me. I just didn’t care. I couldn’t stand people talking to me, being near me, or even looking at me. I hated any and all social interactions. It got better during high school. Most people knew to leave me alone. After that, I started hanging out with my family more when they went out places.

  “Then I met Freya, and she sat down next to me,” he says, chuckling. His expression cuts deep, and jealousy hits me over how much he loves her. “One look at her and I didn’t feel that coldness inside me, that void. For the first time in my life, I wanted someone to talk my ear off, to touch me. Then she died and everything felt cold and dark. An anger like nothing I’ve ever felt before grew inside of me. I lived for years holding onto that anger, onto Freya and what happened. I needed it.”

  Seeing the anguish on his face doesn’t sit well with me. Pushing away the jealously, I place my hand on top of his. He looks up at me, and what I see has me taking in a breath.

  “Then you happened.”

  “Me?” I ask, terrified of what he will say next.

  “Yeah,” he croaks out. “You always intrigued me, even when I was with Freya. I would watch you, you know?”

  “You did?” I squeak out, cheeks filling with heat. I seriously hope it wasn’t one of the times I daydreamed whilst watching him across the dinner hall.

  He chuckles, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. More than I cared to admit.”

  “Why didn’t you speak to me?” I blurt out, then look away when I realise Freya was the reason why. He had a stunning girlfriend, and I didn’t compare. Not even close.

  “Your brothers,” he admits.

  “My brothers?” I ask doubtfully. He wasn’t scared of them, that much I knew, with the amount of times they fought at school. Thinking back, however, none of those fights were started by Landon. It was always one of his cousins or his brother.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think it was worth the hassle of having them breathing down my neck. I liked being alone, remember?”

  Ouch. Double fucking ouch. That hurt more than I realised it would. Being told you’re not worth the effort… Yeah, it fucking sucked.

  “And now?”

  “Now I know what it’s like to be with you. That day in the car, I felt like I betrayed Freya. I got angry at her. Angry at you. I hated that I felt something again. Just one touch and I felt warm, Paisley. I was a dickhead for making you walk back home. A part of me wanted to turn back, but I knew I wouldn’t let you go, and it wasn’t fair to you when I was still mourning a dead girl. For weeks I fought to stop myself from seeking you out—to hell with your brothers. I just wanted you. Again, and again. I knew I’d never get enough of you, Paisley. The night I was attacked, I had already come to the conclusion I couldn’t stay away. I was fighting more often than not, and then I realised in the ring that I wasn’t really fighting my demons but fighting my feelings for you.”

  Wow. Just wow.

  “I’m scared you’ll hurt me again,” I admit through a lump in my throat.

  His knuckles bump my chin, lifting my head to meet his gaze. “Then let me prove I won’t.”

  “I don’t get it. Why me?”

  He shakes his head, his lips twitching. “You really don’t see how special you are, do you?” I shake my head, my nose twitching. He chuckles. “In school, you used to sit next to a girl in the dinner hall. You would slyly give her stuff from your lunchbox because she never had lunch.”

  I scrunch my nose up. How did he remember Hannah? She had a shit upbringing, always getting picked on for wearing worn and torn clothes far too small for her. She was skinny and pale, and she never had money for food.

  “I made extra sandwiches and would pretend my mum had overpacked so she would take it,” I admit.

  He nods. “Daniel Morgan found the courage to ask Louise Billings to the end of school dance. She embarrassed him in front of everyone outside of school, and you walked right up to him and asked him if he wanted to take you. It wasn’t even your year to have a dance.”

  I blush, remembering David. He had a tick, a nervous stutter, and a bad case of acne. I had watched him walk up to her outside of school, in front of all her friends, and ask her to go to the end of year dance.

  “She was a mean person.”

  “Last year, I watched you try to correct the disaster Charlotte made of her cake.”

  My lips twitch. “She picked up salt, not sugar.”

  He shrugs. “You crawled out from behind that bin to protect me, knowing you would be in danger.”

  My heart sinks and tears gather in my eyes. “They were going to kill you.”

  He cups my cheek. “I know, but you still stepped in front of me like a shield. You’re special, Paisley. You’re kind and giving. When you laugh, your entire face fills with happiness. And you don’t see it, but people stop to take notice. They watch you, and they smile.”

  I shake my head, denying it, too lost for words. He leans in closer, and I no longer care he’s invading my space.

  “You asked me, why you. That isn’t even close to why. You’re beautiful, Paisley, inside and out. And that’s rare. So fucking rare.”

  “Landon,” I whisper, pleading with him to stop as the walls I built around my heart come crumbling down.

  “I’ve never, not once, laid myself bare to someone. I don’t let people in, but I’m taking a chance. You’re worth the chance. So, I’ll ask you one more time. Will you go out with me?”

  I meet his gaze, the intensity making me squirm. “What if I say no?” I ask teasingly, wanting to lighten the atmosphere.

  His lips twitch, and he shrugs. “I’ll just keep on asking, because I’m not giving up. I’m not giving up on you. On us. We have something worth fighting for,” he declares, his gaze heated and determined. “What’s it going to be, Paisley? Are you going to fight with me or against me? Because, baby, I’m ruthless, and I won’t give up.”

  The air rushes from my lungs when his lips hover over mine. My eyelids droop, and I begin to sway towards him.

  “Say yes,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

  “Yes,” I whisper hazily.

  The feel of his soft lips has me swallowing down a gasp, my heart beating wildly against my chest. His fingers glide across my jaw, over my ear, and into my hair, where he grips on like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.

  I moan into his mouth at the feel of his tongue swirling against mine. I forget about my cut hand and grip his biceps, needing an anchor to keep me steady before I fall.

  His kiss has my entire system on fire, my senses focused on him and only him. His touch, his scent; it’s all too much.

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry,” a voice squeaks out.

  We break apart, and I run my fingers over my swollen lips. Landon’s eyes are hooded, his breathing heavy as he watches me.

  I clear my throat. “Hi, Mum,” I croak out, glancing over to the door where she’s standing, her hand shielding her eyes. I grimace, glad it’s her and not one of my brothers.

  “I just thought I’d come give you a heads-up; your brothers have a few hours to spare and are outside, ready to unload.”

  My eyes widen at the thought of what they could have walked in on. I look at Landon, who tries to hide his smug grin.

  I roll my eyes, ready to get up and help unload the car, but Landon’s hand on my arm stops me.

  “Paisley’s cut herself on a knife. Do you have any plasters?”

  Mum’s eyes are round when she glances down at my hand. “Oh Lord. Were you sick?”

  My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “No,” I grumble.

  Landon chuckles. “And she hasn’t eaten yet.”

  I look down at the food, grimacing. “I got blood on everything.”

  Mum rushes over, packing everything up. “Not to worry. I’ll go throw something together. There’s plenty more in the fridge.”

  “Mum, you don’t need to do that,” I tell her.

  Mum sighs, shaking her head at me as she finishes throwing everything back into the basket, Landon helping her. “It’s no trouble. Maybe you two should come up to the house. We’ll get that hand cleaned and put a plaster on it while your brothers unload.”

  I look to the door, hearing them arguing outside, and nod. “Maybe it’s for the best. Is that okay?” I ask, looking at Landon.

  His eyes soften. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

  “That’s settled then. You coming, big boy?” Mum asks, and I choke, horrified. “I meant the dog, Paisley.”

  Landon chuckles, but I don’t find it funny. At all. Rex perks up, following Mum.

  Standing, I dust off my dungarees, feeling a little uncomfortable now Mum has left the room. I don’t know how to act, what to do.

  Grabbing my bag, I go to wait for Landon by the door, but he blocks my way. I tilt my head to look up at him, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  “Something wrong?”

  I want to get out of here before my brothers come in and ruin what we just shared.

  “Yes.”

  My lips twist. “What? What’s wrong?”

  His lips pull into a small smile. “I need to know you meant it when you said yes, that you’d go out with me.”

  There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes me soften against him. “Yes. But please, don’t hurt me.”

  “I won’t,” he declares.

  I nod. “Then it’s a date.” I begin to head for the door, ignoring what the relief on his face does to me. Halfway to the door, I glance over my shoulder. “If you hurt me, I’m going to use the moves Jaxon taught me when I was five and twist your balls so tight you’ll be pissing red for a week.” I wouldn’t, but he doesn’t know that. I’m not even sure if a guy would piss red if someone twisted his balls, but going by how visibly pale Landon turns, I’m guessing he doesn’t know either.

  I head out of the door and into the rain, whistling a tune. “You’re joking, right?” he yells after me. “Paisley?”

  My brothers stop what they’re doing in the back of the van when they hear him, eyeing me with suspicion. I roll my eyes. “Do you want those goodies I’m baking later or not?”

  At once, they move, tripping over themselves to get the boxes out of the van.

  Brothers. They’re so freaking easy sometimes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  LANDON

  Nervous energy runs through my system as I drive up to Hayes Farm. I’ve never been on a date before. Freya and I hung out, yes, but I wouldn’t class what we did during those times as a date. And I certainly never had to dress up.

  Charlotte texted me earlier to pop by with some cat food. She hadn’t had chance to go to the shop with working all day at the library.

  When I walked in, I had expected to be in and out, but nope. The girl was a mess. You’d think she had a new born baby, not a kitten. Her hair was a knotted mess, she had scratches all over her arms and legs and looked like she hadn’t slept for a week. However, she beamed like I hung the moon when I walked in, always so fucking happy.

  After staring at me for an uncomfortably long time, she frowned and demanded I take her back to mine so she could pick out something for me to wear. I hadn’t understood what was wrong with the jeans and T-shirt I wore, but not wanting to argue, I let her pick out a navy-blue shirt and black trousers, paired with my black shoes she polished before allowing me to wear them. I put a stop to any more when she went looking for fucking hair gel. Fucking hair gel. I think the lack of sleep was getting to her because it’s Liam who wears that shit.

  “She’s special, she’s different, she’s mine,” I chant to myself as I pull up out outside. Cutting the engine, I get out of the car, grateful the rain has finally let up. When I grab the flowers from the backseat, I silently curse Mum.

  Charlotte had texted her on our way back to mine. Just as we were leaving, Mum shoved flowers into my hand and told me to give them to Paisley. Apparently, girls loved receiving flowers. I’d presumed only dorks in movies did that shit.

  My gaze shifts over the top of the car, finding all eight Hayes brothers blocking the doorway, arms crossed, glares on their faces. The only ones who seem disinterested are the twins. They look bored, like they’ve been forced to stand with the others.

  Now I feel a bigger dick; not only dressed up but holding a bouquet of flowers.

  I walk around the car, relaxing my stance. “Guys, I know you love me, but the welcome committee? It’s flattering and all, but it really isn’t necessary,” I drawl.

  “Funny,” Reid bites out.

  I sigh. I don’t have time for this. “Move,” I demand.

  “No,” Jaxon barks, stepping closer to me.

  I spread my legs a little, ready for the fight. “If you’re going to threaten me, get it over with, but I’m telling you now, it won’t work.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asks, studying me.

  “Because I’m not going to let you come between us. She won’t let you, either. But more importantly, I don’t give a fuck what you have to say.”

  “Give this up, Landon.”

  Pissed, and late, I step forward, getting in his space. “No!”

  His jaw hardens. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you hurt my sister. She isn’t some slag you can fuck around with.”

  Just hearing him compare her to the girls I usually fuck has the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

  “I’m not going to fucking hurt her,” I bark out.

  His eyes narrow into slits. “Yes, you fucking will. You’re a fucking Carter. None of you can keep it in your pants.”

  I snort. “You’re one to talk.”

  “I won’t let you do this,” he warns me. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit. You’re going to fucking break her.”

  My free hand clenches into a fist. “Yeah? And how are you going to stop me?” I demand. “I’ll tell you one last time. Move. Before I fucking move you myself. And I’d rather not piss her off before the date has started.”

  He grabs me by my shirt, and I growl.

  “One petal breaks and I’ll break your fingers.”

  He shakes me again, but movement by the door catches my eye, so I don’t move, keeping my hands by my side as I smile smugly at him.

  “Jaxon Hayes, please tell me you don’t have that lovely young man’s shirt in your grip,” his mother states in a reprimanding tone.

  Jaxon’s lids close, and he groans. He lets me go, patting down my shirt. “No, Mum. Never,” he lies, looking at me dead on. “This isn’t over.”

  “It never fucking started, because I’m not giving her up,” I whisper in a menacing tone.

  “She deserves better than you,” he bites out.

  Yeah, she fucking does.

  “That might be true, but us Carter’s are known to be selfish bastards when it comes to what we want.”

  “Jax?” a tentative voice calls out.

  My breath escapes my lungs when Paisley steps out from behind her mum, looking between Jaxon and I, biting her lip worriedly. She looks fucking stunning. Her hair is down, falling past her shoulders. Her makeup is minimal, but I can see the faint glow to her cheeks and how her eyes pop with eyeliner on.

  She’s wearing a red velvet dress, scrunched up over her full breasts before falling down to her knees in waves. A black cardigan or jacket hangs over her arms—I can’t be sure which, not wanting to take my eyes off her.