Chapter 7 #4
I stared hard into the steaming mug of broth. Godsdamnit, I would not cry.
“Lemme know if you want any more.”
The gentleness of Griz’s voice almost unraveled me, and I had to turn away before I lost it. I sipped my broth and pretended to study the shelf of tinctures, my eyes burning.
“Be right back with your mattress,” I heard Griz add to Trey before he left.
Thank the gods Trey didn’t try to talk to me as he resumed his post by the door.
A few minutes later, Griz and Mac showed up with a mattress and blankets and set them up near the entrance.
I hovered on the other side of the exam table, and Mac approached, the scar on his face standing out more than usual from his tan skin.
“I’m sorry,” Mac said quietly. “Lana was one of mine, and I take full responsibility. She’s been exiled, along with the two men she hired to attack you.”
I eyed him, tracking his hands, his distance, the angle of his shoulders—everything my body insisted on measuring before it would let me breathe. He didn’t push closer, though. He just stood there, taking the blame like he meant it.
“How are you feeling?” he added.
“Give you one guess,” Griz interjected.
A tiny spark of amusement flashed through Mac’s eyes. “Fine?”
“You got it!”
I crossed my arms.
“For a healer, you sure do a shit job at taking care of yourself,” Mac said.
I glared at him, struggling to keep my temper in check. Anger was easier than whatever else was threatening to spill out.
“I closed the clinic,” Trey said. “I’m gonna make sure she rests now.”
“I’m—” I started, but Mac held out a hand.
“Do not say ‘fine,’ ” he said sharply. “You’re not fine. You were attacked and almost raped.”
I cringed away from his blunt words, my breath catching.
“Gods, Mac,” Trey muttered.
“Pretend I’m the doctor. I’m asking you if you’re alright. You wouldn’t want a patient to lie to you, would you?” Mac pushed, leaning toward me, both hands on the table. “I know Trey stitched up your head, but are you hurt anywhere else?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, furious at the tightness in my throat and the sting behind my eyes.
“Bones.” Mac’s grey eyes seemed to soften, and that was worse than his glare. “C’mon. Talk to me.”
“I know how to handle it,” I said, hating that my voice shook.
He frowned, but then the understanding dawned darkly on his face. “Will you talk to Trey? Or Griz? Someone you trust?”
“Trust?” I exploded, my hold on my temper snapping.
“Like how you said I could trust your fuckin’ crew?
Trust like this?” I gestured to my face.
“I’m so fuckin’ sick of you all pretending that you’re so different.
For the record, I’d rather still be with Juck.
At least he never pretended to be somethin’ he wasn’t.
” That was a bald-faced lie, but I wanted to lash out and hurt them.
Sure enough, all three flinched.
“I said I can handle it. Now leave me the fuck alone!”
The silence after my tirade seemed deafening. Trey and Griz weren’t looking at me, but they both stood stiff-backed, expressions pained. Mac, however, held my gaze with an intensity I couldn’t quite name, that muscle in his jaw working.
“Alright,” he finally said, “g’night.”
With that, he turned and strode back out.
Griz sighed and followed Mac. “Night, Bones.”
I hugged myself. In the wake of that burst of anger, my hands shook, and my skin felt too tight. I wished Trey would leave so I could fall apart in private, but the mattress by the door was a stark reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Bones, I’m so sorry—” Trey started, his voice quiet and rough.
Gods, I couldn’t do this.
“I’m goin’ to bed,” I interrupted, storming over to my mattress.
The dinner bell hadn’t even rung yet, but I didn’t care.
I pulled off my boots, not looking in Trey’s direction, and burrowed under the blanket.
The fabric over my head made the world feel smaller, safer.
I held my breath as the first sound tried to escape me.
Tremors passed through me and hot, humiliating tears escaped, rolling down my face and dampening the mattress.
In the silence, I heard Trey release a heavy breath. “I’m gonna lock the door and turn the light off,” he said quietly. “I’m over here if you need anything.” He paused for a moment. “Or if you want to talk.”
I didn’t answer; I muffled my shaky gasps by pressing the blanket over my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, pain lancing through my head. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be.
You can’t let them win. If you fall apart, they win, Wolf growled.
Shut up, I snarled back. You don’t get to talk ’cause you’re not fuckin’ here.
I wished all of this was one long nightmare and that any moment Wolf would shake me awake. He’d be scowling, annoyed that I woke him up again, but he’d still wrap an arm around me and hum the song our mom used to sing until I stopped crying and fell back asleep.
But I’d wished the same thing almost every single night for twelve fucking years. Wolf wasn’t here. This was real, and my brother was gone.