Chapter 10
Crew
The second the words leave Claire’s lips, I know I’m not going to like whatever comes next.
She sits there, calm, legs crossed, one manicured hand balanced on Roman’s hospital bed rail like she owns the place…
and she does. Not the hospital, but this space, the conversation. Hell, maybe even all of us.
My stomach knots. My fingers twitch for the phantom weight of a pill bottle, the one I flushed to try to prevent any temptation, but I can still hear the rattling in my head. Claire smirks. “Roman’s going to be discharged soon. Elijah and you, Crew, you’ll all come back with us.”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence that doesn’t even sound like anyone in the room is breathing. I blink at her. “Come again?”
“You heard me.” Her eyes flick to Will, who’s standing behind her like a sentry with that quiet intensity that makes my skin itch. He’s not loud in the way Roman is, or sharp like Elijah, or openly cocky like me.
He’s worse… he’s calm. Deliberate. Doesn’t need to raise his voice to own a room. Will places a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Lorenzo won’t stay ignorant forever, and if he thinks even of a fraction like I do, then he knows your dumbass is alive. You are all targets. So, the safest place is with us.”
“Safe?” Elijah scoffs, crossing his arms. “You call that house safe? With her?” He tilts his head toward Lottie, who stiffens beside Archer.
I want to deck him. Tell him to shut the fuck up, but Claire beats me to it. Her voice is like silk, dangerous and deadly as she narrows her eyes at him. “Careful how you speak about her, Elijah. Very careful.”
The temperature in the room drops. I swear I see Elijah’s throat bob when Will leans forward, his calm facade cracking at the edges.
“You will live under our roof,” Will demands, “because it’s the only way to keep Lorenzo from gutting you alive.
But hear me when I say if any of you hurt Lottie again…
” He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t need to.
He’s terrifying just from a look. His hand squeezes Claire’s shoulder, and his eyes narrow like blades.
“You’ll wish Lorenzo got to you first. Do you understand? ”
Roman whistles under his breath while nodding. Elijah mutters something I can’t catch. Me? I just sit there, feeling the ground tilt beneath me.
We’re really doing this. All of us, under one roof. With her.
With the girl, I can’t stop calling baby like a dumbass.
Who haunts my thoughts every night, every time I close my eyes, just like she did when she was supposed to be a ghost. And with Archer and Oscar, who look ready to throw me through the nearest wall if I so much as breathe the wrong way in her direction.
I laugh, because I can’t help it, but it’s sharp and humorless. “This is insane.”
Claire turns her gaze on me, and I want to shrink into myself.
“So is staying here, exposed, waiting for Lorenzo to make his move. I don’t deal in maybes, Crew, especially not when it comes to protecting my family.
That same family that you led Lorenzo to because you all felt entitled to answers that were never supposed to be yours.
I deal in certainties, and the only certainty is that you’re safer with us. End of discussion.”
I want to argue. God, do I want to, but my tongue feels heavy, my throat dry. She’s right, and I hate it. Roman claps his hands once, wincing when the movement tugs at his IV. “Well, looks like we’re going to be roommates.”
He tries to sound cheerful, but even he can’t hide the tension lacing his words.
We’re fucked.
So unbelievably fucked it’s not even funny.
Elijah doesn’t say a word, because when does he? He just glares out of the window like the glass has personally offended him. I lean back in my chair, running a hand over my face, blowing out a breath.
I’m fraying. The itch under my skin is back. My skin feels too tight, my chest too small. The pressure of everything feels impossible, and I want nothing more than to get lost in something that will make me forget.
I can’t breathe.
Lottie glances at me. Her eyes—God, her fucking eyes. She doesn’t look angry. Or disappointed. Just watchful. Like she knows I’m fraying at the seams, and I look away like a coward.
I can’t stand it.
Everything breaks up not long after. Roman kept trying to talk logistics, but Claire pressed the button for his morphine until he was talking nonsense. Elijah hasn’t said anything else, and Lottie looks like she’s spiralling at the idea of living with us.
I slip out before anyone notices. Overwhelmed by all the secrets and revelations.
The hospital air outside is cool, sharp in my lungs, but it doesn’t help. My hands still shake. My thoughts are still clawing at me. I shouldn’t be here. Not with her or them.
The craving for the feeling of before hits hard, sudden, like a wave crashing over me.
My brain screams for it—the sweet burn. The numb silence after.
Just one hit. Just one pill. Just one line.
Anything to shut up the memory reel playing in my head…
Lottie’s bruises, her too-thin frame from years of neglect, the way she flinched at phantom hands and shadows that weren’t there.
I dig my nails into my palms until I feel skin break. The pain anchors me, barely.
“Running already? I expected you to last longer than that.”
I freeze. Will. Of course, it’s him. The man moves like a ghost, and now he’s standing over me, hands in his pockets, watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved.
“Needed air,” I mutter, but the lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
He nods, like he expected my answer, but he doesn’t push. He lowers himself onto the bench beside me. For a while, neither of us speaks. Then softly, “You want to use.”
It’s not a question. I laugh bitterly. “That obvious?”
He shrugs. “To someone who’s been there? Yeah.”
I turn to him, startled. Will, the perfect man, the one who looks like he’s never fucked up a day in his life, is saying he’s been there? He must see the disbelief on my face, because he chuckles. “You think you’re the only one who wanted to escape at one point?”
I don’t answer. My throat feels too tight.
Will leans back, staring at the darkening sky.
“I’m not going to tell you it’s easy. It’s not.
I’m also not going to tell you the cravings ever fully go away, because they don’t.
But you learn to fight them. You learn why you’re fighting and what you’re doing it for. ”
I scoff. “And what if I don’t have a reason?”
Will turns his head, and in an instant, the kind-eyed man is gone.
“ You know exactly what I mean. She’s in there right now, laughing with my son, eating chili, pretending her scars don’t burn every time she breathes.
Scars you three carved into her.” His jaw tightens until it looks like stone about to crack.
“Don’t you dare pile your demons on her shoulders.
She’s carried enough.” He pulls out his wallet, thumbing through bills like he’s counting down seconds of patience.
The money slaps against the bench beside me, final and cold.
“If you’re too weak to fight for her, then take the cash and walk.
Stay the fuck away. Because I swear to God—” his voice drops lower, darker, “—I will tear apart anyone who hurts her again. And I don’t care if that means I’m protecting her from strangers…
or from you.” Then, softer, barely, but it’s there.
His eyes flicker with something raw. “She deserves someone who sees the worth in her, every scar and every laugh. If you can’t be that man, don’t even try. She’s worth more than half a heart.”
The words hit like a punch. I look away, blinking hard. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done to her? You think I don’t hate myself enough already?”
“I think you hate yourself so much you’d rather burn than try to be better. But I also think you care about her enough to want to try.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence stretch between us. Then finally, I whisper the words, too scared to say them any louder. “I don’t know if I can do it. Stay clean, I mean.”
Will doesn’t flinch or scoff at my words. He just nods, with a soft understanding from someone who’s been there before. “Then I’ll help you. We all will, because she deserves to be happy, and whether you like it or not, you’ve become part of that.”
I swallow hard, staring at my shaking hands. Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me wants to laugh in his face. But mostly… mostly I just want to be the man Lottie sees when she looks at me, not the fuck-up I’ve always been.
I nod, barely. It’s all I can manage.
Will claps me once on the shoulder. “Good. One day at a time, Crew. Just one.”
As he stands to head back inside, I stay on the bench, the craving still there, gnawing at me. But I want to do it for her, and I need to do it for me, so I don’t become what I always hated.