No Longer Fair To You Chapter 08
Clayton and Anderson got into a vicious fight that night.
I still have no idea how it started. By the time I realized what was going on, they were already bloodied up, trading blind, stubborn punches.
It took the cops showing up to finally pull them apart.
Later, I sat across from Anderson, gently rubbing ointment into his arm.
“Why’d you guys even go at it?” I asked. “Look at you – you’re a total wreck.”
Anderson kept his eyes down, watching as I blew softly on his scrapes. “He was way out of line,” he muttered. “He had it coming.”
I paused for a second before going back to dabbing the ointment. “I’m used to it. That’s just how he is.”
Anderson frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
He and Clayton had already fought over me enough as it was.
I hesitated. “Just give it one more week,” I told him.
Anderson’s head snapped up. I pressed my lips together and dropped my voice. “I’m filing for divorce next week. He won’t ever see me again after that.”
The room went dead silent. The only sound was a rapid, heavy heartbeat.
When Anderson finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and strained. “What about me, then?”
He looked terrified, but there was a desperate kind of hope in his eyes. I let out a soft laugh. “As for you…”
I wanted to string him along a little, but I couldn’t bear the flicker of disappointment creeping into his expression. “I already promised I’d keep giving you sweaters from now on.”
I kept my voice quiet. “You’re pretty clueless if you don’t get what that means.”
That racing heartbeat seemed to get even louder, but Anderson went completely still. He whispered, “Babe.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Ellie.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Honey.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Once I finished patching Anderson up, I stepped out to wash my hands.
Walking past Clayton’s room, I noticed his door was cracked open, giving me a clear view inside.
Clayton was slouched against the wall.
He hadn’t moved an inch since being brought back to his room.
The lights were off, leaving the space lit only by the pale moonlight spilling through the window.
He hadn’t bothered to clean the gashes on his cheek or his arm, and blood was drying on his collar.
For a werebeast who usually cared so much about his appearance, right now, he just seemed battered and totally alone.
He didn’t even seem to register the pain from the deep cuts. He was just staring blankly at the floor, lost in his own head.
On my way back from the sink, I couldn’t help myself. I set down a tube of ointment and some bandages right outside his door.
Maybe I was just a pushover.
I didn’t know why, but seeing Clayton look so drained and defeated broke my heart a little.
I lingered around the corner, holding my breath. A minute later, I heard some rustling.
I waited a beat before peeking out. The supplies were gone.
Clayton had taken them.
That night, I dreamed about something from a long time ago.
I was walking home from work when I realized I was being followed.
Forcing down the panic, I speed-dialed a number without even checking to see if it was Clayton or Anderson.
Clayton was the one who showed up.
He practically tore around the corner, his usually perfect hair a total mess.
It turned out the guys following me were black-market human traffickers.
I’d been this close to getting dragged into their vehicle, clinging to the door frame for dear life.
The second I saw Clayton, I completely broke down.
Clayton took on several massive werebeasts all by himself.
He held his own, but even though he won, he still took some brutal hits from their blunt weapons.
Afterward, he just pulled me into his arms and let me sob into his collar. His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
I found out later that someone had slashed his back with a knife – a wound that almost killed him.
But he never breathed a single word of it to me.
When Anderson eventually found out what had happened, he was absolutely livid.
The very next day, the city launched a massive crackdown on human trafficking rings.
I learned later that Clayton was also in the military, and he had actually helped orchestrate the crackdown himself.
Maybe all the warmth and patience I’d given him over the years came down to how fiercely he protected me that day.
But in the end, we just weren’t meant to be.
