Chapter 22 Horny Octopus
horny octopus
Sariah
“Don’t disturb them.”
“I won’t but—”
“You are. Stop it.”
“Ayla-girl.”
The last is paired with a rumbled chuckle that would warm me through if it weren’t for the man I’m touching like a horny octopus.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Shhh. One day, they’ll want it.”
“Wrestling helmet and all?”
“It’s a moment.”
“If you’re trying to be quiet, you’re not.” My ear rumbles as the chest below me bounces to emit those words.
I tilt my chin up to see Cian staring at the foot of his hospital bed.
“Do I want to know?” I ask in a whisper.
A firm squeeze to my hip and a shake of his head should be enough, but I venture a look down his body to see Ayla and a man.
I squint and look past the black leather, the shaved head, and the untamed beard to find the boy I knew forever ago. “Liam?”
“Good to see you, Sariah.”
“You too. I wanted to thank you—” I struggle to sit up, but Cian’s hand pulls me closer into his chest.
“Later.” The one-word answer is commanding and surprises me.
“I’m on duty,” Liam says, dropping into the chair and lifting his motorcycle boots to the chair next to him with two distinct thunks.
I don’t understand, but I also don’t care. I’m in Cian’s arms. If it weren’t for the setting, and the spectators, this would be downright perfect.
“I’m going to get home to Eleanor and Franklin.
” Her new puppy. Only the Murphy’s wouldn’t use names like Buddy or Spot.
Leave it to them to have formal ones for their pets.
“Your girl will be fine. She’ll be ready for some peace and quiet when you get home, Ci.
Sariah, does Renée need anything? I can drop by your place if I need to. ”
“What time is it?”
“Four thirty. The sun is thinking about setting and—”
“Here we go,” Liam starts.
“Shut up.” A smack rings through the humming room.
Four thirty? I need to get up. I try yet again to slide away to sit up.
“No.”
“Oh good. The caveman has come out to play. Are you coherent yet?”
“Whole time,” he grits out.
“You’ve been coherent the whole time? When we discussed grapes?”
He nods.
“And when you told me you were pretty?”
“Did not.”
“Pretty, huh?” Liam interjects.
“Why do I always miss the good stuff?” Ayla adds.
“You chose to leave for that,” I offer.
“I mean now. Stupid responsibilities.” I swear she’d stamp her foot if she could.
Liam barks a throaty laugh.
Cian extends the hand not holding me wide, and his sister folds in to hug him.
“Love you, Ci. I’ll find you tomorrow.”
He drops a hand and touches her nose before nodding.
“Bye, Sariah. Take care of my big brother, okay?”
“I will.” How did I get folded in so quickly to this family? And why is it like a warm blanket on a frigid night?
Liam pipes up from the corner. “Got your house wired, Sariah. Will show you how to see and operate everything when my brother stops holding you like you’ll float away if he doesn’t.”
“Never.” I feel it as I hear it whispered over me like a vow.
I offer a thumbs-up to Liam as I burrow into Cian’s chest.
Rosie has Renée. They’re safe. And Rosie is fine. I have a few more minutes before I need to leave.
The other shoe won’t drop on me today.
Not today.
Cian is finally coherent with the meds getting out of his system.
That whole redhead thing is no myth.
Cian
My arm is asleep. It’s numb and on fire at the same time, but I say nothing. She’s in my arms. Phase one is done. Fifteen years from start to finish.
I’ll wait that long for phase two, but I really hope I don’t have to.
She’s fallen back to sleep. I only know because her mouth popped open like children on television do, or like baby pictures on the internet.
Women who are faking it put a soft, pretty look on their faces. This is not that. It’s deep and restful and, thank fuck, real.
Liam hasn’t left. It’s not invasive. Two weeks ago or two months ago, it would’ve been, but now I feel safe. Sariah is vulnerable and so am I. My brother stepping up is what I didn’t know I needed.
Mom never returned. I don’t know whether Dad would deign to show. He had his own hospital visit followed by a return to normalcy that included blowing up my phone with messages on why he was locked out of the business computers and accounts.
I can feel my blood pressure rise, so I take deep rolling breaths and fight to regain my peace and focus on what matters…
Sariah’s face on my pec, her shoulder burrowed under my arm pit.
Her arm wrapped low on my waist and her knee cocked on my quad dangerously close to my balls.
Her breath moves in and out across my chest.
Peace.
Fucking heaven.
I make eye contact with my brother and he grabs his phone, tapping the screen before mine vibrates and I reach for it.
Liam: Happy for you. Been a long time coming.
Me: Too long.
One handed texting is tough, and I won’t risk waking the woman in my arms.
“Is Renée safe?” I ask as quietly as I can.
My brother stares at his phone, pushes his fingers across the screen, and lifts his chin. “She’s playing on her phone. The grandmother is cooking. Nothing else to report.”
I allow another deep breath and exhale in acute relief. Sariah will need to go soon. I hate to lose her, but duty calls. At least I know all’s well.
And because of that, I rub her arm that’s wrapped across my body. “Angel?”
“Hmm?”
“Baby, wake up.” I say it gently because I don’t want to scare her.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Talk to Liam, okay?”
I slide out of bed in my gown and sleep pants and stumble to the bathroom hoping I get feeling back in that dead arm. I’ve never experienced this level of asleep before.
I relieve myself but not until after I settle from the image that looks back at me from the mirror. I’m black and blue again, though more brutal in appearance. One eye stares back at me.
I fight not to pity myself, though it toys with me.
I’m a fighter.
I’m a survivor.
I choose to rise above.
Right here, right now, I choose it—Phoenix Consulting. From the ashes of my dad’s burned-down reputation, from the ruins of this family, I will rise.
I might as well hear the Rocky theme music when I’m walking out, because I’m on top of the world.
Until I see Sariah’s face, blanched of all color, fear dancing malevolently in her eyes.