Soulmate (Cameron Dallas/ Nash Grier/ Matthew Espinosa/ Hayes Grier)

Chapter 88

I love seeing new readers binge read my book in like 2-3 days it's pretty impressive ahah 💗
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"I don't wanna go with you."

"Please... No..."

"Leave me alone!"

I jolt awake, and Hayes's hand swings into my stomach. I groan loudly, biting my tongue in excruciating pain.

"Go away!" he screams.

"Hayes, wake up." I nudge him, moving his sweaty hair out of his face.

"Get ... Get off.." He fights me, but I pin down his arm.

"Hayes, honey, wake up!" I say frantically, nudging him harder.

Suddenly, he jumps up and looks straight at me; his face paling as he desperately scoots away.

"It's me, Kat," I say slowly, reaching out for him.

"No!" he yells loudly, swatting my hand away.

I hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, and Nash barges in.

"What's happening?" he asks frantically.

"He had a nightmare," I tell him, Hayes swatting at me again.

"Hayes, buddy, it's me Nash," he says softly.

"Stop," Hayes pleads weakly, shielding himself.

Nash wraps his arms around him, and Hayes's head finds comfort in Nash's chest. I sigh in relief, holding my aching stomach.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Nash asks me, concerned.

"He hit my stomach," I tell him.

Nash shines his phone light on my stomach, revealing a deep stain of scarlet red on my shirt.

"You're bleeding," he says worriedly.

"I think he ripped out my stitches," I say, and he lays Hayes back down.

Nash comes closer to me, the phone light eerily illuminating his features. He slowly lifts up my shirt, and I wince as the material is peeled off of my stomach.

"He pulled out some of them, but not all," Nash tells me, his fingers running over the remaining stitches.

"Ow," I mutter, and he pulls his hand away immediately.

"Sorry," he says, his hand finding my cheek; his thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

"I'll be right back," he tells me, leaving the room.

I look at Hayes, his slightly parted mouth emitting soft snores. I smile at him, my best friend. My only friend.

Nash returns with some band aids and a wet towel. Slowly but surely, he cleans the blood from my wounds and places a band aid wherever it's needed. I look at him while he helps me, his tongue sticking out in concentration. I laugh to myself, causing him to look up at me.