Page 36 of Unmarked Magic

His brown eyes locked onto mine. “Bossy much?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. A glint formed in the depths of his irises before fading just as quickly.

I rolled my eyes. “Just get in bed.”

Thankfully, he did as I asked.

“Give me a minute,” I said, before heading back to my room and changing into my pajamas.

I didn’t need this. Not at all. But, if he had a possible concussion, I had to make sure he was okay through the night.

Walking back into his bedroom, I sat on the opposite side of the bed to him.

He glared at me, eyeing my pajamas. “What are you doing?”

Here we go. Brace for impact.

“Being a responsible human.” I pulled a blanket that I’d gathered from my own room over me.

His eyes practically blew from his sockets. “You’re in my bed.”

“No shit, sherlock.”

“Why?”

I steeled him with a look I wasn’t sure I could back up. But I had to. For one night, I had to put everything that had happened in the last five hours behind me and be a good friend.

“Look, whatever happened after…” I couldn’t say the words. They just wouldn’t come. I flicked one of my red-painted nails against the seam of the blanket. “I know it’s not my business, but there’s blood smeared down the hallway, and you can barely walk.”

“You’re right, it’s not your business,” he said sharply. “You can’t be here.”

In his bed.

I huffed out a breath. “Either you go to the medical center and get checked out for a possible concussion or I’m staying right here for the night. You know the risks.”

His stare willed me to back down, but I wouldn’t. Not about this. His health.

He finally sighed. “Fine. Gods, you’re stubborn.”

“You know it.”

He stared at the space between us, as if drawing the invisible line that would separate his side of the bed from mine. As if that thought hadn’t already crossed my mind one hundred times in the space of the last five minutes.

When his gaze found mine again, he didn’t look away. His dark eyes held mine in a vise grip, warning me not to cross the boundary between us.

Before all of this, I may have entertained the thought of pushing his boundaries. But not now.

He slumped back against his pillow, pulling the comforter up to his chest, rolling until he faced away from me.

It was then I saw it.

At first, I thought I imagined them in the dim light of the bedroom. But, as I looked closer, my breath caught in my chest. Marks all over him. Scars hidden underneath the ink that covered his entire back. If I’d not been so close I wouldn’t have noticed, but as he lay beside me it was impossible not to at this proximity.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I felt the burn like he would his fresh scars. What had happened to him? I realized then why he always wore a top. He had hidden this from us all.

But why? Was he ashamed?

Did he think we would judge him for this?

Without thinking, my hand gravitated to his back, touching him softly.