DAWSON
I did a mental countdown in my head, trying to assert a normal pace where my breathing could fit in so I wouldn't have to give off those gruff breaths anymore.
I stood on one spot and watched Smith inspect Carla's bruised knees jabbed hard at my chest. It looked like one hell of a romantic scene, where the guy looks out for his girl. But that's bullshit! He had no right to care for her. Or get touchy with her. She wasn't his mate. Why the hell was he bothered about her?
I should be the one doing that – taking care of her and keeping her safe from falls and whatever she'd done to have earned the bruise. It should be me, standing next to her. Not him. Not this god-awful Smith Derell. Why the hell won't he just back off? Why was he making me hate him more than I already did?
"Isn
