Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
SHAWN
Elvis’s father stares at me in silence for a long moment, then his lips curve up into a small smile. “Never told you my name, darlin’,” he says, his voice an odd combination of rough and soft all at the same time.
I open my mouth to tell him that his name would probably be important to me if I knew where Elvis was and if I was assured that he was safe. But I don’t say anything because I’m so nervous, so scared, so downright terrified that I just stare at him.
“Name’s Nash,” he says. “Nash Stanley.”
I blink a few times, then nod my head. “I’m Shawn Cotton,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a moot point since he likely knows exactly what my name is.
“Elvis is hurt,” he says. “Reason it took him a few days to get to you was he was in the hospital. He’d been stabbed.”
I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Stabbed.
The single word plays on a loop as I stare into his eyes, waiting for something else.
He gives me that something else next, and I wish I hadn’t been waiting for anything at all because I don’t want to hear it.
I don’t want there to be anything else. I don’t even want there to have been a stabbing.
“He went to the fight, he busted his stitches open, and he bled. A lot.”
Lifting my fingers to my lips, I hold them there as I stare at him. My eyes are wide, my lips are parted, and I’m unable to move. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what comes after that, so I stay quiet and wait for what’s next.
Could there be anything next?
“He had to have a blood transfusion. Doc says he’s going to be okay, but he has to have more bed rest. A lot of fucking bed rest.”
“Can I see him?” I ask immediately.
Nash nods his head once. “You need to get hydrated and some food in you before I’ll take you down there.”
Sliding my tongue along my bottom lip, I watch him for a moment, then ask another question that I’m not quite sure I really want the answer to, but I do it anyway because I need to know. I don’t want to know anything, but this is a need.
“Where is Poison?” I ask.
“Here, locked away. She can’t hurt you.”
Nodding my head, I suck in a breath and hold it for a beat, then let it out slowly. “Okay, food then Elvis.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Food then Elvis.”
I want to ask him what they’re going to do to Poison, my sister.
The title is odd. I’ve only ever had a brother, and the fact that she’s related to me in any way kind of makes me sick, but at the same time, I didn’t have a great life, but she had it worse.
That is what makes her what and who she is.
However, I don’t think she’ll ever want to be my friend.
She’s known exactly who I was since day one.
As sorry as I feel for Poison, I realize it’s not really her I feel sorry for. It’s the little girl she once was. Just like myself, I feel sorry for the little girl I was, but I have changed my life. I have tried to pull myself out of and away from it all, which only brought me closer.
Looking down at my hand on the table, I stare at my fingernails.
They look like shit. They’re chipped and peeling.
I should be running. I should be getting the hell out of here and never looking back.
Except I fell in love with the exact person who started this entire snowball effect. I love him. Everything about him.
I lift my gaze to meet Nash’s and decide that food and drinks will have to wait. I don’t give a shit about them. Not at all. “I need to see him now. Food can wait.”
Nash’s eyes widen, from my forced tone, from my insistence, I’m not sure, but he nods his head once, then stands to his feet.
“How about food on the way to Elvis?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Then let’s go.”
I stand as well, then watch as he turns his back to me and makes his way toward the door but stops before opening it and looks back over his shoulder at me, his eyes finding mine, then he gives me a wink.
“He’s going to like you coming in his clothes. I’m just warning you.”
“Why?” I ask.
I have no idea what it would matter what I was wearing, plus this shirt and these sweats are at least five sizes too big for me.
He lets out a chuckle. “It’s a territorial guy thing,” he explains before he turns his head back around and tugs the door open.
“Is it like a dog pissing on something?” I ask.
Nash turns completely around and faces me. He’s wearing a smile that is almost too big for his face. He bursts out laughing and shakes his head a couple of times, then his eyes find mine again, and he holds my gaze with his, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
“It’s exactly that, darlin’. Now let’s go.”
Following behind him, I ignore the stares as we move through the bar. It’s silent. There are twice as many people as I’ve ever seen before, and it’s quieter than I’ve ever heard before. It’s eerie. I don’t know if this is some kind of foreboding, but I don’t like any part of it.
I want to go back to the comfortable cocoon of the bedroom. This is far too scary. Them being quiet. Being solemn and not partying, drinking, and screwing girls all over the place solidifies that this is really serious.
Really damn serious.
My stomach sinks and twists, but there’s nothing in it, so nothing else happens.
Keeping my head down, I follow behind Nash and head straight toward a rusted, old, beat-up pickup truck.
I climb up into the passenger seat, and he does the same in the driver’s seat and looks at me before he starts the engine.
“He’s going to be okay,” he says, although I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself. And no matter who it is he’s trying to convince, it doesn’t work.
KING
That fucking beeping.
That fucking smell.
Both consume me.
Opening my eyes, I turn my head to the couch. I don’t expect to see anyone there except maybe Atomic, but I’m met with my father’s gaze. He dips his chin, and his lips curve up into a grin before he tilts his head to the side.
Following his tilt, that’s when I see her. I want to cry out her name, but I can’t because it would hurt way too fucking badly, and she’s asleep. She’s curled up in the corner of the couch with a hospital blanket wrapped around her.
My father stands and closes the distance between us. I watch as he stops beside my bed and shoves his hands into his pockets as he looks down at me. Pressing my lips together, I wait for him to say something to me. I know he likely has plenty to say.
“I like her,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m glad,” I rasp.
He grins. “Yeah, I think you made the right choice with that one. But what the fuck are you going to do with the sister and the mother and brother?” he asks.
“Mother and brother aren’t an issue. The sister, though, she needs to be taken care of.”
My father rocks back on his heels with a grunt, then I hear a heavy sigh and shift my gaze past him to the woman on the couch. I watch as she slowly opens her eyes and comes to life. She pushes herself up to a seated position, then yawns before her gaze meets mine.
An expression of shock crosses her face, then panic, then fear, followed by anger. She stands and hurries over to me. I brace myself for a hug, but nothing happens. Instead, she reaches out and wraps her fingers around mine, holding my hand.
“Are you okay?” she asks on a whisper.
My father takes this opportunity to slip out of the room. If Shawn realizes he’s gone, she doesn’t comment on it. She sinks down on the edge of the hospital bed, her hand still wrapped around mine as she leans forward.
I close my eyes when her forehead touches mine, and swear to fuck, I can finally breathe again. Lifting my hand, I weakly wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, giving her a gentle squeeze before she lifts her head to look into my eyes.
“I’m okay,” I say, answering her question.
She shakes her head. She doesn’t believe me, and she probably shouldn’t. “You aren’t,” she whispers with a smile playing on her lips. “A transfusion, restitching. Why did you do it?”
“Do it?” I ask.
Shaking her head, she murmurs the word no. “It’s not what you think. Not the club, not what happened there. But why did you go out when the doctor suggested that you stay here?”
I cup her cheek, taking a moment to slide my thumb across her bottom lip. She watches me. This moment is so fucking tender, so goddamn vulnerable for me, physically and whatever the fuck else I’m feeling inside.
“You, sweetness.”
“Elvis,” she exhales.
Clearing my throat, I keep my hand where it is, my eyes focused on hers. “I couldn’t stay in this fucking bed knowing you weren’t safe. I had to get to you.”
Tears fall from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks before she leans forward and rests her forehead against mine again. She inhales a deep breath, then exhales it out of her mouth slowly before she speaks.
“You would be no good to me dead,” she states.
“You either.”
She shifts her face slightly, touching her mouth to mine, and we kiss.
It’s not as deep as I would like it to be, but since I’m in a goddamn hospital bed, it’s not like I can do anything about it anyway.
When she breaks the kiss, she sits up straight and wipes the tears from her eyes as my hand falls from her cheek.
“We’re a mess,” she says on a laugh.
“Yeah,” I agree. “But we’re gonna be okay.”
She smiles, takes my hand, and holds it as we look into one another’s eyes. I’m not sure if this could get any more touchy-feely, but at the same time, I like it, at least with her. There’s a knock on the door. We both shift our attention, and I call out for the person to come in.
My father walks back into the room, his gaze finding mine, and he dips his chin. Shawn senses that there is something else happening here and clears her throat, brushing her hands down her thighs as she stands from the bed.
“I’m going to go get some water,” she murmurs.
I watch as she leaves, and that’s when my father levels me with his gaze.
“Don’t fuck that up.”