Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

IZZY

I know this is the first night they’ve been used, but I’m still super impressed with how nice these bathrooms are. Not only are they sparkling clean, they’re huge. I’m sure at some point there’ll be lines, but there are so many stalls I was able to walk right in and use one. Total luxury.

Washing my hands, I’m thankful for the dim lighting. The hair at my temples is starting to curl from sweat, and the flush in my cheeks is cute so long as you don’t shine a florescent light on me. If I were drinking tonight, I’d be even pinker.

I smile at myself. I’ve never thought of myself as unhappy, but having my new group of friends, and having Zach, has really opened my eyes to the possibilities life has to offer. I know what Zach and I have is new, but it feels so right. And I feel so damn happy.

After adjusting the girls and smoothing down my dress, I push through the door to find my man.

The short hallway leading to the restrooms is even more crowded than when I went in. I’m weaving between bodies, careful to not step on any toes, when I hit a wall.

I move to step backwards, but the wall reaches out and grabs hold of my upper arms.

“I’m so sorry!” I say, realizing that I ran into a person.

“Hey there, little lady.” The man’s voice is slurred so badly that I can hardly understand him.

Looking up, I figure he’s about six feet tall. He’s not overweight, but he’s definitely not one of the professional athletes in attendance tonight.

“Excuse me.” I try to step away, but his grip tightens.

My inner alarms start to go off and my pulse spikes.

He chuckles. “Maybe you want to give me a kiss for my troubles.”

I try to laugh. “Um, no thank you.”

I shrug my shoulders, hoping to dislodge his hands. I don’t know how else to get him to let go of me without creating a scene.

“Oh come on, little lady. You know you want to - " he leans closer.

Anger starts to lace the fear coursing through my body.

“Please let go of me,” I try to sound stern over the loud music.

“What’s your problem? You wear that and expect me to not want a taste?” His eyes are fixed on my cleavage.

Oh, so he’s one of those assholes.

“What I wear is none of your concern. Now let me go!” I shove at his chest.

The man releases one of my arms and makes a grab at the tie holding my wrap dress together.

Without thinking of the consequences, I slap him.

The sound of my hand against his face is barely audible, but the sting in my palm is evidence enough.

“Bitch!” He shouts.

The hand he was still gripping me with releases. But before I can escape with my freedom, a force hits the side of my face and knocks me sideways into the wall.

My eyes work faster than my brain. This jerk just backhanded me! But it felt like a punch.

My eyes instantly fill with tears, blurring my vision. Tears of rage and fear and pain. But I’m too stunned to do anything more than cup my aching cheek.

The man starts to take a step towards me, I think to hit me again, but I’ll never know. Because in a blur of motion, he’s gone.

An inhuman growl vibrates over the loud music.

With side eyes, I watch as the asshole is literally thrown across the hallway, striking the opposite wall.

Zach.

Zach has my attacker pinned by the throat with his left hand while his right hand strikes out. Punching the man, over and over.

Zach’s knuckles impact on the man’s face, ribs. I can tell that Zach is yelling while raining down this punishment, but I can’t make out the words.

The man is trying to fight him off, but even if he wasn’t drunk, he’d be no match for Zach.

Zach is trained. Zach is bigger. And Zach is mad.

Watching Zach’s fist connect with my attacker’s jaw, I feel a wave of conflicting emotions. My brain seems like it’s working on a time lag and I can’t decide which feeling is strongest. I still feel the fear - from being alone with that man, having his hands on me, having him try to undo my dress. And the pain in my face is becoming more real with each beat of my heart. The pulse in my cheek a stark reminder that a man actually struck me.

Then there’s the elation that Zach found me. Saved me. That he intervened just in time to keep me from becoming truly injured. The fact that he didn’t hesitate to come to my rescue fills my heart with warmth. I know joy is a terrible feeling to have while watching Zach beat on another man, but it’s there, nonetheless.

But watching Zach continue the strike my attacker brings on a final emotion. Worry.

This one wins out above the rest because it’s worry for Zach. He needs to stop before he hurts himself. Before he gets in trouble. Before he kills that man.

I push away from the wall to, I don’t know what, step into the middle of the fight? But before I have time to decide, Jackson and Luke break through the growing crowd. They waste no time, each grabbing hold of one of Zach’s arms. I hadn’t even realized the audience until this moment. My focus has been solely on Zach and his foe. And the gawkers have apparently just been watching. No one stepped in to intervene. Not for me. Not for the asshole. Not for Zach.

Zach struggles against the grip of his teammates for a few seconds, but then a change takes over and Zach releases his grip on my attacker’s neck.

Instantly, the man slumps to the floor. But he’s still making noises so he must be conscious. And alive.

The guys are saying something to Zach, but the ringing in my ears is too loud to hear over.

Zach seems to be standing on his own but I can see his back heaving. His muscles are tense and the energy wafting off him is that of a cornered animal. Like he’s braced for the next threat. Ready to lunge. To strike out.

Clenching my hands together, I try to think back to when Zach first appeared. I don’t think my assaulter got a single hit in. Other than damage to his knuckles, Zach should be okay. He’s not hurt.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, but the next inhale dislodges the little control I had left.

My hands begin shaking so badly I feel like my bones might rattle apart. I squeeze my fists tighter.

I don’t know if it’s the shock wearing off, or new shock all together, but I feel like I’m about to lose it.

“Zach.”

My voice breaks on his name and tears start to drip down my face. Reaching up to wipe them away, I put too much pressure on my bruised cheek and wince. How did I already forget that I was hit? That’s the whole reason this started.

Remembering the fear that rolled through me when the man took his final step towards me causes a whimper to escape my throat. I bite my lip to hold the sound in, but that only has me noticing the taste of blood in my mouth.

“Sugar.”

My eyes fly up.

Jackson and Luke still have their hands on Zach, but he’s turned towards me now, gaze locked on mine. I must look even worse than I feel, because I swear I can see Zach’s heart break as he looks at me.

“Isabelle.” Zach’s voice sounds tortured and I choke on a sob.

Something about hearing my full name on his lips, in the midst of the anger and fear and violence, nearly brings me to my knees.

Zach looks so sad. So lost. So hopeless. But worst of all, he looks scared.

My turtledove is clinging to my throat, weeping.

Before I can say anything. Before I can tell him how much his actions mean to me. Before I can step closer and rest my hand over his heart. A group of police officers push between us.

I hear parts of words, but nothing makes sense. Somehow, I was able to hear Zach’s strangled voice a moment ago, but my ears are back to ringing. I try to see through the bodies, to hear what they are saying, but the wall of uniforms blocks me.

Then Zach is gone.

I catch a glimpse of him being escorted out by two large cops, Jackson walking with him as Luke turns to me.

I step forward wanting to follow Zach, but a female officer steps in front of me.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

I nod. “I need to go. I need to talk to Zach.”

She places a hand on my shoulder. “Ma’am, I need you to stay here. Tell me what happened.”