Page 47 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

Chest rising and falling, Neco pulled out of her body and straightened . . .

A hot tear streaked down my cheek. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and a sound, like a wounded animal, burst past my lips.

His head shot up and his eyes locked with mine through the window.

I spun and ran, as fast as I could. I didn’t go home. I kept running until my feet were bleeding, until the sun came up, until I couldn’t run anymore.

I shook off the memory.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I refused to break down, not here, not now, and not after what just happened. I sat there for the longest time, trying to decide what my next move would be, half expecting Neco to walk back in, to apologize, to say something. He didn’t.

Finally, I pulled out my phone and messaged Van. He’d offered his place, and right then, I didn’t know where else to go. I just knew I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t be around Neco and his anger. I definitely wouldn’t survive another one of his punishments. Van texted back almost instantly that he was on his way.

I stood slowly, my body so damn weary, achy, and gathered my bags, swinging them over my shoulder and opened the door. I found Neco in the living room. He had a desk set up in one corner. There were three large computer screens and other techy stuff that I had no idea what it was used for. Neco was on the phone. I didn’t know who he was talking to, but he wasn’t happy. Nothing new there. There was a laptop in front of him as well and he was staring at the screen. He ended the call, throwing his phone down. His body had gone rigid, fists on the desk, fingers curled so tight it looked painful.

I walked up behind him and dropped my bags. “Van’s on his way. I’m going to his place.” I didn’t want to know what had him pissed this time. I just wanted to get this over with and leave.

One of his hands went to the top of the laptop and he angled it to me, still not looking my way, eyes still locked on the screen. “He won’t get away with this, I promise you that.”

My eyes dropped to the image he’d been staring at and nausea curled in my belly. It was a video of my room. I was putting away my laundry. I watched myself move around then lie on my bed and pick up my book.

“Turn it off,” I rasped.

He slammed it shut and shot to his feet.

Shit. Knowing I’d been filmed, watched, was one thing, seeing it with my own eyes . . . I felt ill. The last person I wanted seeing the footage was Neco. I knew how he’d react—well, I thought I did . . .

God, he was so angry.

“I don’t want you to do anything crazy,” I murmured.

His eyes were shooting fire. “The minute he hurt you, put one mark on your skin, he fucked himself.” He stood, and reached out, taking my phone from me before I could stop him.

“What are you doing?”

He ignored me, tapped something out, and then flung my phone on the couch.

“What the hell, Neco?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

“God, not this again.” I threw up my hands. “You don’t get to decide that. That’s not . . .”

“You said it doesn’t need to be me.” His chest was rising and falling fast, intense gaze burning into me.

“What?”

“You said . . . this time, it doesn’t need to be me.” He stabbed his thumb at his chest.

Then he was in front of me, so close his boots butted against mine.

“You ever thought, for one second, that maybe I want . . . no, that I fucking need to be that for you? That being the man you need when things get too much, or you’re scared, or, shit, just in the mood to be a fucking brat . . . doesn’t mean something to me?” He dipped his head lower. “That I’m the man you think of first, that I’ve always been that for you . . .” He closed in, backing me up against the couch. “It means fucking everything to me. Christ, Ruby, you mean everything to me.” He shook his head. “You’ve got some fucked-up idea in your head, and right now you think you know what’s going on in mine.”

He closed the remaining space between us, the length of him against the length of me. I tilted my head back, heat racing, palms sweating, throat like a damn desert.

“You don’t,” he said.

My mouth wouldn’t work; all I could do was stare at him, trying to understand what was going on here, trying to tell myself it wasn’t what I thought it was. That it couldn’t be what I thought it was.