After Math Read Online Free Page B

sensation, focusing every speck of my attention on the puzzled blue eyes less than a foot in front of my face.
    We have a standoff, in the doorway of The Higher Ground coffee shop. People are outside the door waiting to get in, but Tucker’s hand is on the handle, preventing their entrance as well as my escape.
    I lift my chin and grit my teeth to keep them from chattering. “Get out of my way. Now.”
    He stares for another three seconds before he curses under his breath. His hand drops, and he takes a step back.
    Someone outside pulls the door open, and I push through the group, my eyes stinging from my unshed tears and the cold. I walk at a brisk pace until I get to the mathematics building, then find a back stairwell and sink to a step. Closing my eyes, I bury my face in my hands and give into a full-blown attack as the realization of my fate sinks in my head.
    I may have stood up for my principles, but I’ve just committed career suicide.

Demo version limitation, this page not show up.

Demo version limitation, this page not show up.

Demo version limitation, this page not show up.

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    Several minutes later we climb the staircase to my apartment. I worry that Tucker will fall down the stairs in his stupor, but he only trips once. When we reach my apartment, he leans his shoulder into the brick wall as he watches me fumble with the lock. I push the door open and wait for him to enter. The soft lamp light from the living room welcomes us in from the cold.
    He waves to the opening. “Ladies first.”
    More surprises. I go inside, and he follows, shutting the door behind us.
    I go into the kitchen, my stomach churning. I’m suddenly unsure this was a good idea. “Sit down at the table, and I’ll clean up your hands.”
    He obeys, sliding a chair across the floor closer to the wall and landing in the seat with an oomph .
    I take off my coat and lay it across the back of another chair. “I need to get some towels.” When I come back from the bathroom with several hand towels, I wet one with warm water and lay the rest on the counter. I reach for his right hand and begin to tenderly pat the now-drying blood.
    “Why are you doing this?” he asks.
    I’d love to know the answer to that question myself. “You can’t do your homework if you can’t hold a pencil.”
    He slides down in his seat, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. “Strictly professional reasons.”
    “Of course.”
    We both know it’s a lie, but he doesn’t call me on it.
    When I get most of the blood wiped away on his right hand, I sigh. His knuckles are swollen and purple. “I think you should go to the ER and get x-rays. You might have broken your hand.”
    The back of his head is propped against the kitchen wall, and his eyes are closed. “Good thing I don’t need my hands in soccer.”
    “Tucker, I’m serious.”
    One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “So am I.”
    Shaking my head, I open the freezer and look for a bag of something frozen to put on his hand. The freezer is unsurprisingly bare. Caroline and I exist on mac and cheese, spaghetti, and ramen noodles. I have to settle for a partially used bag of pizza rolls. I set Tucker’s hand on the table, cover it with a washrag, then top it with the bag.
    He sits up in alarm, as though I just woke him. “What the fuck?”
    “I’m trying to help you, but I won’t if you’re going to cuss at me.”
    He closes his eyes again. “You’re cute.”
    Incoherent Tucker is back.
    I clean up his left hand, relieved to find the swelling and bruising aren’t as bad. When I finish, I put his hands together on the table, scoot the washrag to cover both hands, then adjust the bag on top.
    “You should be a doctor, Scarlett.”
    I move to the sink and wash out the towels. “Nah. I’m just exceptionally practiced at cleaning up injuries.”
    “Your old boyfriends get in a lot of fights?”
    “No. My mother.” There goes my filter again.
    One eye cocks