The door bursts open, cracking against the wall in a loud pop, signalling Warner's arrival. His tall, fit outline fills the doorframe, and he scans the room before his eyes land on me.

I let out a breath of relief, Warner is here. He didn't get in that car; he didn't sign the contract. He is safe.

I haven't been awake very long and I have already replayed the memories of last night in my head numerous times. Waking up alone in this room, having nurses and doctors hover over me, being questioned by a therapist about my poor health. It was all too much at once.

I didn't mean to flinch. I was trying to stay strong but when I saw Warner's hand move so fast, I couldn't help but flinch. Then his eyes narrowed in on the ice pack I had pressed to my cheek. And if possible, the taut line of control in the air pulled to the point of unravelling strand by strand.

Blind rage took over Warner's features when I flinched back from his touch. It's silent for a moment between us, "I swear to God I am going to kill every single one of them." He tells me fiercely.

I picture Paul and Jared, and what they did to us and swallow a lump in my throat, "Trust me I want revenge just as much as you do but we need to be smart about this. We can't just go about murdering people."

He doesn't seem to calm down, he continues to pace the ground like a wild cat. "It happened to you right in front of me," his voice breaks, ragged. "Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Out of anyone in the world, that you were hurt under my protection?

I shake my head. "Warner, don't. It wasn't you that did this to me. It's not your fault."

"How can you say that? Of course, it's my fault! I put you in the middle of this. I brought you to that parking lot!" He yells. He's shaking his head as if I am the one being unreasonable.

"I hate myself," he tells me. "I will never, ever forgive myself,"

He looks miserable, I now know that he has been punishing himself while I have been in this bed. His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, and one of his eyes has a purple bruised ring around it from the beating he received himself.

He circles back to me now, crouching next to my bed. "I am going to chop off every one of their fingers that touched you and I will enjoy watching every last one of them suffer for what they did to you," he growls, his voice so low that I feel a fire ignite in the pit of my stomach.

As much as I would love for them all to suffer, I couldn't let him do it. It was all with the police now and anything we do now would just ruin the investigation.

"No Warner. It's with the police. We need to let them deal with it."

Warner's face shutters down. Something indescribable flickers in his bright green eyes, something that is related to fury and a distant cousin to murder.

He is far too angry to listen to me. The mention of the police doesn't help anything,

His breathing grows laboured, and I see him scanning my face, over the stitches on my forehead, my split lip and the bruises that cover the skin he can see. "Like they dealt with it before?" he asks, eyeing my bruised skin. "I can't let this go."

"Please, Warner. Not now. Just be here with me. Please." My voice cracks, still sore. "Everything you did to get away from your dad and this whole world, everything we did. It will all be for nothing if you leave and do something stupid. Don't throw away your whole future over this. I won't forgive you if you do."

He sucks in a breath like I've physically punched him and closes his eyes like he is in actual pain. When he reopens them, his eyes are full of tears. His hand reaches up to trace my jaw, his eyes locked on what I can imagine was the swelling red mark on my cheek.

I don't flinch this time

Warner's head dips toward mine, his eyes not losing an ounce of that dark emotion that swims behind them and he kisses my jaw with a tenderness he did not have a few seconds ago.

I am scared that he still plans on leaving this room to murder someone. But instead of saying or doing anything, he dips his mouth to mine in a press of a gentle kiss. A lingering kiss that makes me forget how much my head hurts because it makes everything else feel better.

It was right then that I notice his hand is shaking— trembling. He kisses me once more right next to my eye, careful not to hurt me.

Warner takes his time getting to his feet, his movement is steady and level but there is something off about him.

"Where are you going?" I ask, scanning his face. The look in his eyes isn't right. It is savage and unruly, and it makes my heart clench even harder.

"I'm going to go take care of this," he says, eyes flashing up to the ceiling.

Oh crap. Panic nudges at me. Worry over what in the world this man is going to do if he leaves. In this split second, I couldn't care less about what happened back at the parking lot. Not if Warner is going to go do something stupid and risk his own future for revenge, "Warner." I shift up in the bed, ignoring the shooting pain in my ribs.

"Babe," he growls. "I need you to feel better. Lay back down."

I reach out and grab his hand, threading my fingers through his in a tight squeeze. "Please don't do anything." I tug on his hand. "It's fine. I'm alive and they are in jail. We can get back at them, but we can do it without killing anyone. You aren't risking your entire future just to get revenge."

He won't look at me, and I know he is struggling to keep his cool.

"I'm serious Warner, I won't forgive you if you leave and do something to them." I make sure to state it. Demand it. His Adam's apple bobs with hard swallows, and his muscles tighten and loosen twice.

Still nothing.

"Warner, please," I beg him. "Please. You can't get in trouble with the police..." A sob is lodged deep in my chest. "Don't go." My heart is going to shatter. It was getting sliced by what-ifs.

He grinds his teeth together, a vein in his neck bulging. "Don't ask me to do nothing, Jules." His neck tips up in barely controlled anger. "You want me to sit back and let them get away with this shit? With what they did to you? What they made me watch?"

"Warner—"

"Look what they did to you!" he snaps. His eyes flash brightly. "They hurt you. They put their hands on you. They made me watch while they—" he pauses, finding it hard to get the words out. "I can't sit here and look at you with a clear conscience. You flinched at my touch. I can't forget that."

Oh my God. My heart does a dumb pitter-patter-clench thing in reaction to his words, to his conviction, his loyalty... everything. I really was in love with this man. It was horrifying and amazing at the same time. I squeeze my fingers around his. "This wasn't your fault, Warner."

He scrunches his eyes together, blowing out a breath that makes his lips flutter. Ticking his neck from side to side, he rolls his shoulders. "You are my responsibility. You are mine. And I won't stay here like some coward. I think I'd do anything for you, believe me. But I won't do this." He presses his lips to my forehead, his breath hot. "I have to do this."

I could have let him go. I could have just sat back and let him seek vengeance on my behalf, but I wouldn't. Not today, not the next or any month or year after that. Because the situation wasn't worth the possibility of losing him, he had a bright future ahead of him. He had scouts watching him play, he just got Tracey away from his dad. I would not let him risk jail time for me and I wasn't above playing dirty. Saying what I needed to. Doing what I needed to. I needed him to stay.

What I needed the most was for my fingers to quit shaking. The pain on my face I could deal with, but that hard-printed memory of the gun on my forehead was semi-permanent by now.

"Please. I need you here with me. Promise me you won't leave. We are a team, we do this together. I won't forgive you if you leave me right now." My voice sounds stronger than I feel.

My statement must hit home in his thick, stubborn skull. He blinks those brilliant green eyes repeatedly before finally nodding slowly as if it pains him. He lifts a hand to rest on my bed, presses his lips to my forehead and lets out a shuddered breath. It is a low move to say those words to him but I don't care when he finally speaks. "Fine. I promise."

A few seconds Kenji and Adam walk in. I was going to question where the rest of them were, but I realize that the only reason they are in here is to calm Warner down.

"The nurses heard yelling." Adam trails off seeing my face, I certainly wasn't looking my best. Kenji also stares and it certainly isn't helping the situation.

"No yelling here, just a loud discussion." I wince out a smile and I know that neither of them buys it.

Warner's eyes are still fierce, and that fierce tension stays as he communicates wordlessly with both Kenji and Adam.

"Warner, don't you dare walk out that door. You promised me!" I raise my voice as loud as I can but I feel hopeless in this hospital bed. I can't even stand up to stop him. I can't stop him from leaving and ruining his life over revenge

He shakes his head, those green eyes screwed shut. "Just...goddamn it, Jules!" He slams the palms of his hands against the wall."Fuck," he chokes out, "You have no clue...no clue..."

The next thing any of us knew, he'd grabbed one of the chairs and thrown it across the room, where it met a loud, messy death with the wall. Warner yells. He yells this guttural, primal noise that could have caused earthquakes. He tips his face up, hands clenched at his sides. "Goddamn it!" he yells, raking his hands through his hair.

Holy crap.

A nurse comes running into the room and I notice she only looks at Adam when she speaks. "You need to calm her brother down or he is going to have to leave."

Brother?

Kenji and Adam walk over to Warner who still looks furious. I know he has some anger to get out but I didn't know it would take place here. I guess it was better he try to murder the furniture than a man.

He grabs another chair by the legs and launched it in the same direction. "Fuck!" explodes from his lungs.

"Warner!" Kenji grabs him by the arm, and he drops the chair at once sinking into Kenji's chest. It turns into some sort of hug, Kenji holding Warner up.

"I'm just going to take him outside for a breather." Kenji nods at me and winces as soon as he looks at my face again. How bad did I look?

The nurse looks like she wants to ban Warner from the hospital but luckily Adam wraps an arm around her, "When is your lunch break? I'm paying."

I send him a grateful smile as they all walk out. After only a few moments alone a lady I have seen before walks in with a clipboard. She reminded me of an older version of my therapist Kendra.

I had seen her earlier, they told me the therapist was going to do another evaluation of me today. She tried to earlier but I wasn't very responsive.

"Hi, Juliet. Are you able to talk now?"

I nod and she looks at one of the chairs Warner recently threw at the wall. Instead of making a comment she simply picks it up and places it close to where I am laying in the bed.

"I received a fax of notes from your normal therapist, Kendra. She informed me that you have missed your last couple of appointments with her."

I grimace, I was too caught up trying to help Warner that I had skipped my last couple of appointments. No big deal.

"I was busy."

She writes something down and I frown, how could she have something to write? I didn't say anything incriminating.

"Your recovery should come first; it should come before helping others around you. Your vitals are indicative of just how serious you have been taking your recovery. Which is not very serious at all."

My mouth gapes open at how straightforward this lady is. Kendra was sweet and patient, she made me feel like we were friends talking but this lady was the complete opposite.

"I am taking it seriously; I will try harder." I haven't been trying very hard recently, I wanted to put others before me for once.

She sighs and pushes her glasses up her nose. "You're one hell of a performer, keeping this up for so long."

I cross my arms in annoyance at this lady pressing me, "Keeping what up?"

"Acting like you are okay. Selling this idea of who you need to be to everyone. All the time. Carrying around the weight of it...the performance... aren't you exhausted? I think it would be exhausting." She smiles at me like she didn't just read me to filth.

I hated how well she read me. I was exhausted. So exhausted. Every day my thoughts were filled with food, what I couldn't eat and my body, what I looked like. Pretending that I was fine when I so clearly wasn't. The drama with Warner's dad was a good distraction from my own problems.

Instead of telling her any of that I give a sarcastic response, "Of course, I'm exhausted, I got assaulted by multiple men and had my head stitched together." I give her the same sickly-sweet smile she gave me back to her.

"Would you like to know what I think?" she asks and I know she will tell me whether I want to know or not.

"Not really but I'm sure you will tell me."

"I don't think you have made nearly enough progress you should have in the time you have been in therapy. I don't think you are trying very hard at all to get better. I don't think you believe you can get better." She pauses to gauge my expression, but I give away nothing, even though everything she is saying is true.

"Sometimes terrible things happen to really amazing people. You may not like me very much but I know you are a good person and I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I didn't at least try to talk to you. Recovery from an eating disorder isn't easy, It's not linear. You will have good days and you will have bad days but until you try to get better there won't be any good days."

I nod at her because I am scared if I try to talk I will spit out every toxic thought I have. Every toxic thing my mom has told me.

"The hospital asked me to evaluate your mental well-being. I've learned that dragging young women away to a hospital when they don't want to get better doesn't work very well. I'm going to leave my phone number here. I hope you will call when you are ready to take your recovery seriously."

She leaves a card on the table and walks out without another glance in my direction. I knew this woman would challenge me; she wouldn't let me breeze by like Kendra. I just didn't know if I was ready for it. To face my demons.

What if I took it seriously and still failed to get better? She was right when she said I didn't think it was possible to get better. It seemed impossible.

I don't have much longer to dwell on the subject because there is a knock on my door. A softer one, a much more hesitant one. The door isn't locked. If he really wanted to come in, he will.

"Juliet, can I come in?"

Since when did he ever ask to come into my room?

I still don't say a word.

Why isn't he being his usual stubborn self? The Warner I know would have barged right in and made me talk to him, whether I like it or not. That's what I expected of him, but he sounds so different now, defeated and scared.

My heart falls into the pit of my stomach.

"Yes," I say loudly enough so that he hears me but not so loud that he hears the trembling of my words.

The door opens quietly, not making a single noise and then Warner comes in, just as noiselessly. His eyes are bloodshot, and his shoulders are slouched in defeat.

He walks over and gently tilts my face up to his, eyes intense on mine. "I'm sorry. I lost it seeing you like this. I was an asshole. I'm so sorry Jules. I'm so fucking sorry."

"You didn't-" I try to speak but he cuts me off.

"I did. I lost my cool just now and I shouldn't have. I lost control when you needed me. I'm just afraid Jules. I am afraid of losing you. I can't watch you suffer like this. I don't want to live in a world that you're not in."

He pauses and I know he has more to say, It looks like he is struggling to get the words out so I lay my hand on his in encouragement. "But you listened to me, you stayed like I asked. I don't need revenge Warner; I just need you by my side."

I shift over in the hospital bed and pat the space next to me, he looks tentative. I won't flinch this time. He carefully slides in next to me and leaves a gap between our bodies, like he will break me with a single touch. I may have a few broken ribs but I think I could handle a gentle touch.

He's so close, that I could reach out and touch him easily. I study his face, the way his hair falls over his forehead, and the way he keeps shoving it back. He smells fresh and clean as if he took a shower before coming to see me, and I'm half tempted to bury my face in his neck, so I can inhale his scent.

Having him listen to me, to choose to stay by my side over revenge means more to me than he knows. I know how badly he wants to choose violence, but it means the world that he would let go of it because I asked him to. He is truly the best boyfriend a girl could have.

And I don't look away. It's like I can't.

His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there before he finally looks me in the eyes. "I thought I was going to have to go to jail for the rest of my life," he whispers. "We're going to get this taken care of. You and me. Together. Understand?"

I nod because I'm so tired I can't do much more. Being in bed with him is my comfort place so I already find myself falling asleep "Kiss me," I say. "Before you say anything else, just kiss me and hold me and tell me it was worth it, no matter what happens."

My skin prickles with awareness as he reaches over and pushes my hair away from my face, tracing his finger along the bruise on my jaw, his touch so gentle. I briefly close my eyes, savouring his closeness.

"Open your eyes, Jules." He murmurs as he traces my jaw with his fingertips.

I do as he says, sucking in a breath when I see how close his face is to mine.

He smiles at this, and I can tell he wants to hold me but is afraid of hurting me. "Can I..can I hold you?" he murmurs and the vulnerability in his eyes almost makes me cry. An hour ago, he was throwing chairs around the room and threatening to murder every man who touched me and now here he was nervous to ask to hold me.

His arms slide around me, pulling me to him as if nothing could ever come between us again, and then his mouth comes down on mine in a gentle kiss. I rest my head on his chest where his heart is beating at an unusually high pace, giving away how nervous he is. He wraps an arm around me but ensures not to squeeze me too tight. I feel a million times better just being in his arms. "There's more I need to talk to you about. Something the doctor said to me." He murmurs into my hair, and I tense up.

"Can it wait till tomorrow?" I mumble into his chest, my eyes already drifting shut. The morphine drip in my arm has made me very sleepy and all this arguing has tired me out.

He feels my body tense and sighs, there is a few seconds of silence like he is debating whether or not to say anything.

He places a gentle kiss on my forehead, avoiding the stitches. "It can wait. Go to sleep princess."

"I love you, Warner. Thank you for staying."

"I love you, Jules. Thank you for loving me enough to keep me out of jail."