Chapter Twenty-Seven
The First Claiming
Menace
Octavia rolled her lips like she wanted to spit, she didn’t, though. She just whipped around and stormed into the cabin, leaving the big door open behind her.
I cocked my head, inviting Sammy to get out of the car. When we reached the cabin, the first thing I smelled was real food.
“God, that smells amazing.” I moaned.
“Your niece wanted bacon this morning.” Octavia answered, without turning her attention from the dishes she’d thrown herself into.
“She’s not here?” I guessed, when I wasn’t immediately tackled.
“School.”
I tucked my chin back and slowly scanned the room, digesting what she’d just said.
“You send her to school, even though ya’ll are hiding?”
“Only two weeks left.” She grunted, before sniffing and elaborating, “He won’t show his ass over a missed weekend. It’s safe until summer break. That’s when he’ll try to demand her.”
I supposed she was right, but didn’t admit it. “What time are you going to pick her up?”
She shook her head, “Bus.”
I glanced toward Sammy who was practically hugging the screen door, not really committed to entering the cabin yet.
“C’mere.” I wiggled my fingers and reached for her.
She stared at my extended arm a minute before she slowly stepped inside and moved toward me. When I glanced back, Octavia had finally turned her attention to us. Her gaze was locked on Sammy.
“Octavia, this is–”
“Wyatt Nash’s daughter,” Octavia dryly inserted.
“You two know each other?” I hadn’t expected that.
A quick peek at Sammy shaking her head left me even more confused.
“I remember when you were small,” Octavia told her, “You probably didn’t have any reason to remember me. I wasn’t around that long.”
She folded her arms in front of her chest and smirked, “The fuck you doin’ with his sorry ass?”
“She’s my ol’ lady,” I countered, a little more defensively than I intended.
Octavia glanced between us like I’d just told her we teleported the car into her driveway.
“Your… Ol’ Lady.” The amusement she injected into each word made me bristle with irritation.
She gave a heavy, single nod and smacked her lips before announcing, “Got it. You’re not hiding from law enforcement. You’re fucking hiding from Ziggy.” She turned back to her dishes with a laugh. “You dumbass!”
“Hey, I’m not afraid of Zig or any other man.” I realized I was coming a little hard in front of the man’s daughter and tried to soften it with, “He’s my brother, for fuck’s sake.”
“Uh, huh.” She peeked back at me. “So, he knows you’re with her?”
“He probably does now.” Sam mumbled, drawing my gaze back to her.
“Much as I love a good show, I need to rest,” Octavia abruptly announced.
She turned pale in front of us and began to sweat bullets.
“Jesus.” I hurried to her, and she shakily took my arm.
I led her into the family room and settled her on the sofa.
“Do you–? Fuck,” I stammered.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, fanning the air between us. “It comes and goes.”
“You don’t look fine–” I tried to object, but she shooed me again.
“Menace, come here. Let me clean your chin,” Sammy called from the other room.
“Get,” Octavia whispered, her eyes closed already.
I gravitated toward the kitchen, stopping just inside the threshold to check on Octavia one more time. She still had her eyes closed; a grimace froze on her face.
“She needs to sleep,” Sammy gently murmured.
“She looks terrible,” I whispered, once she lured me near the sink.
“Shh,” she encouraged, “She’ll hear you.”
I glanced back toward the family room and took her advice, growing silent for a few moments while she dabbed at the blood on my chin and neck.
“Needs a stitch or two,” she quietly announced.
I reached up and softly took her wrist in hand.
“Yeah, hospitals are kind of out of the question right now,” I reminded her.
“You think she has any super glue?”
“Third drawer to the right of the sink,” Octavia answered her, before gagging.
Sammy sucked in a breath and started toward the family room. I didn’t have any stomach for that kind of thing, so, I gave them their room.
“Do you need me to get you some water, or a waste basket?” Sammy offered.
“No,” Octavia weakly returned, when the heaving seemed to stop for more than a few breaths. “I’m good. I have a set up over here for when this happens.”
By the time she returned, I’d located the superglue.
“Great,” She snagged it from my hand and blew past me. The bathroom door was open, so she helped herself to the medicine cabinet and quickly gathered some peroxide and washcloths.
“Want to doctor me up in the guest room, so she can get some sleep?”
Her eyes widened like I’d invited her to a lion's den, and I choked on my laughter trying not to disturb Octavia.