Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Colt
The trio moving in through the door bring a combination I both hate and love.
“Hey, bro,” Blake says, his smile obstructed by the mask over his mouth and nose, but I can see it in the flare of his eyes, hear it in his greeting.
Good to see him in person.
Fucking great, despite the circumstances that brought me here.
But it only takes one glance behind him to see that my mom is in a tizzy of epic proportions and my dad is extremely unhappy about being dragged away from whatever it is that he passes his time with these days to be here.
Probably playing games on his phone.
“Hey,” I say.
Blake rolls closer, leans forward and rests his arms on the edge of the bed. “So, this is a change in circumstances, isn’t it?”
I brace for the punchline, knowing Blake’s dark humor often knows no bounds.
“Usually, I’m the one in a hospital bed.”
Okay, that wasn’t so bad.
I snort.
Blake grins.
My mom tsks.
My dad has his face buried in his phone, doing his best to forget the rest of us exist.
Kylie reaches over me, hand extended. “Blake,” she says as their palms meet, “it’s lovely to meet you in person.”
“Have you washed your hands?”
Kylie stills at the sharp question from my mom and slowly straightens. “I’m sorry?”
“For not washing your hands?” My mom rushes over, reaching into the giant bag she calls a purse and extracting a bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Hospitals are filthy places.” She squirts a glob of sanitizer into Blake’s palm and then her own and starts rubbing her palms together furiously.
“Then again, I wouldn’t expect most people to know that. ”
Blake rolls his eyes—because really, what else is there to do when our mom is in a mood like this?—then looks at Kylie. “Nice to meet you too.” A wink before he turns my way again. “Told you she was way too hot for you, bro.”
I try to smile.
I really do.
But my mom is fluttering around behind him, muttering to herself as she continues to rifle through her bag, and I know nothing good is going to come of this interaction.
Blake’s eyes grow serious. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say automatically.
He looks up at Kylie.
“He has thirty-six stitches in his head, a Grade Two concussion, and a dislocated shoulder.”
“Ky—” I begin, not wanting her to worry anyone.
“Jesus, bro,” Blake says. “You don’t do anything in half-measures, do you?”
“Like I said, I’m good.” I start to shrug but stop when a lightning bolt of pain shoots through my body. Right. The shoulder.
And now that I’m thinking about pain, my head is throbbing, the skin on the side of my scalp where that fucker hit me pulled so tight it aches and burns.
Cool, cool.
“Good,” my mom says. “Then I should get Blake home.”
“Mom!” he snaps. “Stop.”
Her eyes flare, and I brace again. Because I know the look on her face means that nothing good is going to come of this.
Hell, part of me wishes they’d just go, that they never came in the first place.
The rest…well, that piece of me wishes they—she—would just see me.
As if on cue, her eyes flick to mine, holding as accusation bleeds into the brown depths that are so much like my own.
“Do you know what your brother did?”
“Oh, Christ,” Blake mutters.
“He booked an Uber!” she snaps. “And the driver was actually helping him load up his equipment!” More accusation. “Do you know how dirty public cars are? The number of people in and out, and—”
Kylie’s hand wraps around my uninjured one, holds tightly.
“Mom,” Blake says, neatly cutting her off when she sucks in a breath to continue her tirade. “This is Kylie. Kylie, this is Donna, Colt’s and my mom, and Frank, our dad. Mom, Dad you probably recognize Kylie’s name from the calls you didn’t return.”
“Blake,” Kylie says softly, her eyes filled with warning.
“Isn’t it great she’s here?” he asks brightly, ignoring the tension in the room.
My dad’s gaze slides from his phone at the mention of his name and he nods briefly before immediately losing interest and returning his focus to winning levels on Candy Crush or whatever the fuck he does on his cell.
(Though, apparently, that doesn’t extend to returning phone calls).
My mom…well, her expression continues to be sour.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Madden,” Kylie says.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” my mom replies distractedly…and bitchily.
Kylie’s fingers tighten ever so slightly on mine.
“You convince her to let you be her boyfriend yet?” Blake asks before my mom can say anything unforgivable.
“Blake,” I warn, not needing any more of his brand of interference, not as the pain is ramping up and fatigue is creeping back in.
I just want to go home.
And God, I wonder how many times Blake felt the same.
His gaze holds mine and though he’s teasing and joking, like normal, I see it there—the burden of dealing with my mom’s attention, the heavy weight of having to do this over and over again (the stays, the surgeries, the stitches, the pain) as his heart failed, as he got a little worse, year by year by year.
“Turns out it didn’t take much convincing,” Kylie says and we both look over at her. She smiles at me then turns the gorgeousness of that beam of sunshine toward my brother.
And I watch him melt, same as I had.
“Mostly because Colt is rather wonderful, as you know.”
Blake’s gaze sparkles with humor. “He’s pretty cool for an old dude.”
“You’re only a couple years younger than me, asshole.” My headache is getting worse and I close my eyes for a second.
But when I open them, the lights seem brighter, more intense, and the pain ratchets up.
“A couple matters,” Blake says, though it’s quieter, as though he can sense that I’m fading. “And it’s six, remember?”
And hell, him having been through far worse than this far too many times, he probably can.
“Maybe we should go grab a bite to eat,” Kylie says. “My brother went to get the nurse, so they’ll be back soon and I think Colt needs to get some rest.”
“Yes, he does,” my mom interjects. “And Blake needs to get home and rest himself. The journey really takes it out of him.”
It’s an accusation.
Kylie feels it, stiffening at my side.
Blake feels it too, his eyes going icy cold.
But it’s one that no one gets to address.
Because there’s a perfunctory knock on the door and then a woman in a lab coat is there, Damon trailing her.
She looks around the room, expression unreadable.
Then it comes to me and she orders,
“Everyone out.”