21. Tate
Something wakes me, and I bolt upright in the bed, forgetting for a moment who I am, where I am, and the fact I’ve had my face ripped apart and put back together again.
I blink a couple times to try to ground myself, or at least wake up my brain when I hear it again. Screaming.
Not quite screaming... bellowing... roaring?
Someone downstairs is pissed, and I don’t know why.
When I leap out of bed, my dangling junk reminds me I laid down in a towel, so I pull on some boxers and stumble out of the room. Wasn’t Penelope here? Where’d she go? How long has it been?
My head’s foggy from my meds, but I manage to get down the stairs without falling on my face, breaking a leg, or tripping over Bacon who’s shuffling away from the noise like he’s trying to get the fuck out of dodge.
Penelope’s sitting at the table with Scott and two of the three de la Pe?a brothers. Where’s Artemis?
Another roar. Is that... Artemis? What the fuck? He’s the quietest of the three brothers. I’ve always suspected that under that stoic, strong exterior ran a river of lava but I’ve never seen it blow.
Until now.
Penelope’s face is red as fuck, and she drops her head in her hands on a groan.
“What happened?” The sound of my own voice makes me cringe. These fucking screws make me slur and mumble, and my speech is shit. People seem to know what I’m saying, so that’s good, but it’s frustrating as fuck to have my communication strangled like this.
Penelope holds up her palm. “Don’t ask,” she mumbles into her other hand.
“There was an incident.” Scott’s a peacekeeper among the brothers. If anyone needs reason or logic, he’s the cool, calm, and collected one in the group.
Ares looks like he’s about to rip someone’s head off, so I turn to Apollo.
“One of the rookies made a shitty comment about your girl. Artemis is handling it.”
I’ve always heard or read about people getting so mad that a red haze descends over them, but I’ve never experienced it until right this moment. Seems today is a day for firsts across the board.
No matter what was said, I’m going to fucking kill whoever it is.
My legs are moving before I’ve even made the decision to go to wherever the fuck Artemis is ripping these guys a new asshole. Penelope is on her feet behind me, objecting, but all I see and hear is red.
I barge into the study. Artemis stands in front of two incredibly sheepish looking rookies who literally run and jump over the back of the couch to put space, and a couch, between us.
Ripping their arms off their body and clubbing them to death with their own limbs sounds pretty good about now.
Artemis body-blocks me, stepping in front of me to prevent me from getting near the two kids cowering behind the furniture. “I’ve got it, Tate.”
Snarling at Artemis doesn’t work. He holds still, bracing himself against me so I can’t move forward. I’d love to say I could take anyone on our team, and most days I’d believe it, but Artemis de la Pe?a is a beast. He eats and trains like a fucking beast. There’s no way I’m moving this brick wall when I’m in a weakened state. And after a couple of seconds trying, fatigue rears its head again, and it’s Penelope pulling me from behind who guides me away.
The rookies are mumbling apologies, or at least that’s what I hope I’m hearing. If it’s defending their behavior, they’re going to eat my knuckles.
In the kitchen, Penelope guides me to a chair and points at it. “Sit.”
“Not a dog.” Except I’m snarling at her like a wild animal.
Folding her arms across her cleavage, the cleavage I was very comfortably asleep on, she pops her hip. “Okay, hot shot. Then stop acting like a fucking animal, and sit your ass down.”
She’s hot when she’s feisty.
“I saw that.” She wags her finger at me like she’s reading my mind.
When I sit, she hands me another one of her magical concoctions from the fridge. This one is pineapple and coconut, like a protein pi?a colada. “We’ll go upstairs after I get something to eat,” she explains as the other men all remain silent. They’re probably afraid of opening their mouths in case she yells at them too.
My girl is fucking fierce.
“Scott ordered food. It’s why I came downstairs, I wasn’t planning on staying, and I’m hungry. That led to a derogatory comment from your teammate about my size, which led to Artemis tearing them a new asshole, and my caveman boyfriend storming down the stairs looking for his club to beat them over the head with.”
I snort. “My club’s plenty big.”
She shakes her head. “Of course that’s what you’re fixating on.”
It’s Ares who speaks next. “I’m ignoring the club, but I am interested in that comment about my boo being your boo. So it’s social media official? You’re dating?” He points a finger at Penelope. “Is this your ploy to get close to him so you can kill him?” He arches a brow in question.
She shakes her head. “He asked me while under the influence of some incredibly strong painkillers which probably negates the consent, but I’m not letting him take it back.”
“I did not.” I grind out. “I told you that you were my girl.”
She nods. “He did. He lost his mind for half a second and thought he could be the boss of me. So I threatened to cut off his dick.”
The men at the table wince, and she giggles. “It’s too easy.” She turns to me. “Once I get something to eat—which no one will take money from me for... again—” She nails Ares with an exasperated look that tells me he’s still winning the battle of settling the check for our double date. “We can go back upstairs. You need to simmer down and get some real sleep or you won’t heal.”
I’m liking this whole nurse thing.
I know she’s not really a nurse, I know she’s studying to be a speech pathologist which, considering my current struggles with using the English language has become so much sexier to me too. But right now in this caretaker mode? She’s never been fucking hotter.
She rolls her eyes, pointing at the cup in front of me. “Drink.”
I throw her a salute and take a sip. It tastes like sunshine and a tropical island. My satisfied noises make her smile. “Glad you like it.”
Like it? I fucking love it. If every protein shake tasted like my girl”s, I’d drink them twelve times a day just ‘cause.
At some point Artemis rejoins the group, but the rookies very smartly make their way upstairs before I can introduce either of them to my fist.
Artemis pats my shoulder as he pulls out a chair and joins us at the table. “I’ve got it.”
“I believe you.” And I do. “I just wanted to break someone’s face.” The honesty is raw, coming straight from the depths of my soul. I want to hurt someone like I’m hurting, like Penelope is probably hurting, but she’s too practiced at hiding it to let anyone see.
The sentence hangs in the air like a toxic cloud until Pitstop clears her throat. “While I appreciate the chivalry, and the death threats.” She glares at me. “I don’t need y’all to fight my battles for me. I’ve been the fat kid most of my life. It’s nothing new.”
Does she not hear the words coming out of her mouth? She’s almost defending fat shaming, just ‘cause she’s so used to it.
“You know,” she says. “An overwhelming number of Americans are fat. Overwhelming. And yet our world is designed for skinny people. Airplane seats are the best example, restroom stalls, turnstiles... the list is endless. Most of us are fat, yet forced to live in shame in a world created by skinny people for skinny people.” She snorts. “And don’t get me started on the patriarchy. Skinny, white, dudes.” She pauses. “With tiny dicks.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve never in my life not been able to fit in an airplane seat. I’ve never needed an extender for my seatbelt. But I have seen a fat person sitting in the seat next to me and made a judgment about their size.
Just because I don’t fat shame my girlfriend doesn’t mean I don’t fat shame at all. From the looks across my teammate’s faces, they’re thinking similar thoughts.
Shit.
We really don’t know our own privilege until it smacks us in our fucking faces.
“I’m used to being the butt of jokes. Of being stared at while I’m in a bathing suit. Huh. Of not going swimming at all because I don’t want to be seen in a swimsuit. I’m used to being told what to eat, judged for what I eat, and assumptions being made about me spending all my waking days consuming nothing but junk food.” She looks at me with a sadness in her eyes that makes me want to kill my teammates all over again. “I’m not saying it’s okay, just that I’m used to it. You definitely don’t need to go to jail for assault because of it.”
All of my friends start arguing at once which only makes her roll her eyes harder, but they’re brimming with tears at their rebuttals, her face is red, and she’s nibbling on her lower lip.
She might not have wanted to find herself a bunch of new, overprotective big brothers. But that’s exactly what she’s done. Welcome to the Raccoons’ family, She Devil. You’re one of us now.