Page 169 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
“No, baby, I needed my family together.” Betty’s fists seized his collar. “You were a minor. He was an adult. I thought there was no way they’d actually arrest you, so I made a choice. I know now it was a wrong one…”
My lips parted. The wall caught my weight. Leaning against it, I sliced my gaze to Nash.
I remembered that night.
Broken nose, rib, and leg.
Separated collar bone.
Dislocated shoulder.
The scar on Able’s forehead I liked to smirk at.
Nash tried to tell the cops it was him, but I always thought he’d been covering for his brother.
“That was you?” I whispered to him.
Nash nodded. Once.
Tension coiled his neck. The fight mode hadn’t fled. Two clenched fists hung at his side. Blood trickled down his temple. A gash opened above his eye, which I figured would become swollen and black by tomorrow.
This warrior, with the cuts and bruises and scars across his chest, had fought for me.
“Why?” My murmur went unnoticed by Reed and Betty.
Nash, however, never looked away from me. “He hurt you.”
It never got that far, I wanted to argue, but I knew it was the same thing to Nash.
“Why did you let Reed hit you?”
“He needed it.”
Can you be any more selfless?
It might have been a flaw at this point.
Nash had a brash tongue, a lack of filter, and the uncanny ability to pinpoint the exact thing to say to throw someone off balance. He pushed people away, never allowed anyone to see beneath his skin, and had no problems hermiting himself for eternity.
He also gave so much of himself, the only thing he kept was his kiss, and I’d taken that from him, too. Sacrifices littered his past and would probably stain his future. And it was a very Nash thing to hurt someone to heal them.
People measure love by how much someone receives, but I measure it by how much someone gives. No one in the history of the universe has ever or will ever have more love than Nash Prescott.
My villain.
My knight.
My prince.
My Ben.
I had to tell him.
“I’m fine, Ma. Don’t worry about it.” Nash tossed the blood-stained rag into the trash, pressed a kiss to Betty’s forehead, and drew her in for a hug.
“You sure, baby?”
“Right.” Reed leaned against Basil, who slid a palm into his back pocket. “Coddle him some more, Ma. Good going.”
