Page 36 of Xander

She glanced at the bar. With a reluctant sigh, I conceded to her unspoken request. Alcohol wouldn’t interact with the low-dose aspirin I gave her; I’d learned after years of treating hockey injuries. For now, the wine might numb the emotional trauma and the physical pain she refused to let me check.

She wordlessly accepted the glass of red wine I fetched for her, savoring the dry taste with small sips. We sat in silence as I took the block of ice and pressed it to the bruises on her arm.

When I lowered the ice and said, “Jordan,” she broke down in tears.

“How?” she asked in between sobs. “How could I have been so wrong about him?”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Jordan slowly revealed everything that happened tonight. She rocked back and forth on the sofa as she relived Henry’s assaults.

My jaw clenched as she spoke, barely able to keep it together.

The only saving grace was that Jordan no longer appeared in pain.

I returned to the bar after she polished off her glass. This time, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey for myself and returned with the wine bottle to top her off. Going to jail for murdering Henry would hardly serve a purpose, and Jordan was the only thing keeping me from acting on that impulse.

Perhaps we both needed to take the edge off.

I sat across from her on the wooden coffee table. For a long while, we drank in silent commiseration. Generally, I had a high tolerance for whiskey, but for the first time in years, I overindulged, just as Jordan did the same. She was shocked by tonight’s events, and I was pissed at myself for letting it happen.

Shaky hands raised a cup to her lips. “Thank you,” she finally spoke after the deafening silence.

“You’re welcome.”

Jordan shook her head. “I didn’t mean the wine.” She was insinuating the fight with my father. “Thank you,” she repeated. “No one has stood up for me before.” She downed the wine and muttered, “God, it felt good to see him fall through the stupid champagne tower he made me put together.”

My lips quirked. “Poetic justice.”

“Part of me wished I were a bigger person and didn’t take satisfaction in it, but⁠—”

“Take it from me. Being the bigger person is overrated.”

I spent years being called an old soul, the bigger person, the mediator. It didn’t bring me happiness. The closest I came was doling out justice to my asshole father and Jordan acknowledging that I did it for her.

We were mere inches apart as I held the wrapped ice to her cheek. My breath fell on her lips when I leaned in and whispered, “I’ve learned to put my needs first.” I didn’t filter the way my heated eyes watched her, letting her draw the conclusion. “Fuck the consequences.”

Furrowed brows graced me, trying to dissect the meaning behind my words.

I topped off her glass—finishing the bottle—as those glossy eyes analyzed mine. The way she stared at me made my throat constrict.

After her ordeal tonight, the last thing she needed was for me to stare at her like she was the prey and I was the hunter salivating for a good chase. But Jordan fucked up by giving me those doe eyes. Didn’t she know?

If she gave me an inch, I’d take the whole yard.

Chapter

Twelve

XANDER

My heavy-lidded eyes roamed Jordan’s face as I lowered the dish towel and held the block directly to her heated skin. The chunk of ice melted against her cheek. Droplets of icy water trickled down from her neck to her cleavage.

Her breath caught at the cold touch, and her eyes pulsed shut.

Tangled, messy hair fell in spades over her slender neck and bare shoulders. My gaze followed the water, and I moved her hair out of the way for better access. She smelled so fucking good. All I wanted was to lean in and smell her straight from the source. To lick the water running from her pulse point to her chest.

Fuck.

The alcohol had gone straight to my head, and my honorable intentions for the night went out the window.