8 Mile & Rion Read Online Free

was looking up at him like he was her hero and he looked at her like she hung the fucking moon. She wasn’t heartless, she was…kind.
    And I hurt her.
    A weight settled over me for what I had done. I may not trust women, but I wouldn’t ever hurt one on purpose. That’s not true, there’s one I would hurt, but it wasn’t the female whose head met the fucking table because of me. I was just so fucking pissed off and tired that when I saw someone sleeping, I didn’t see her, I saw the enemy. Now she’s in bed with a headache that I caused, yet she didn’t yell or complain she just simply walked away and trusted me not to kill her while she slept. Normally a female threatening to kill me would be funny but there was something about this one that told me to tread lightly. She didn’t strike me as a woman prone to violence but what the fuck did I know? The only woman I’ve ever dealt with was a violent as they came.
    This neighborhood wasn’t secure and that didn’t seem to bother her. Well, it bothered me so the least I could do was make sure she was safe while she slept. The situation was unnerving and when her phone rang, I waited for her to get up, kind of hoping she would answer it, but it went to voicemail. Oddly enough, I wanted the woman’s company but didn’t know why. Then her tiny voice filled the silence then the caller left a message I wish I hadn’t heard.
    “Rion it’s Peter, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel our plans this weekend. Forgive me for doing it this way, but I can’t see you anymore. We’re in two different places. I heard you quit your job and I cannot support what you’re doing. I mean what would people think? I’m afraid I can’t look past this. A man in my position can’t be seen with a bookie. My condolences on your father’s passing.”
    Wincing on her behalf, I debate erasing it to spare her from hearing it, but decided it’s not my business. The guy sounds like a corporate douche anyway and she is probably better off. Hearing movement I look over to her door and see her quickly exit and run to the bathroom. Listening to her vomit made me nervous. She must have hit her head much harder than I thought and she could have a concussion. Shit.
    Standing outside the door, I knock but she doesn’t answer. “You okay?” I ask through the door, but then she vomits again, this time louder than the first. “Rion?” I repeat. “You need help?”
    “I’m okay,” she whispers then just as I turn to head back, she does it again. Pushing the door open I see she is clearly not okay. Kneeling next to her with shaky fingers, I pull her hair away from her face. Probably not the best time to comment on how soft it is but it was. “Need anything?”
    “No,” she spits into the bowl. “I’m good. Getting better by the minute.”
    Reluctant to leave, I stand up and notice she’s trembling all over. Kneeling back down, I try to rub her back to comfort her and when I do she starts trembling even more.
    “You could have a concussion,” I tell her. “I should take you to the doctor.”
    Lifting her head up and looking me in the eye, for the first time in my life I’m terrified. I’m terrified because she’s delicate and beautiful. I thought she was pretty in the office, but I was too pissed off to look closer. Now we’re inches apart and I’m back peddling. If she wasn’t hurting I’d push away and make a run for it. She’s perfection even when puking. I’m a scarred mess both inside and out. Years of service have altered me and I know she can see it. I’m here because she feels sorry for me and let’s face it, I feel sorry for myself. I can’t do this, not with her, not with anyone. Even her god damn eyes are kind and it’s killing me.
    “It’s not a concussion,” she whispers wiping her eyes. “It’s a migraine. It was coming on before you even showed up on your dark horse.”
    “It hurts so bad it makes you cry?”
    “No,” she whispers again