53. Wilder #2
“You should go too.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and I wish it didn’t hurt to see him so detached, but I get it, I really do.
Ignoring him, I move to where he dumped the pharmacy bag on the island, digging out what he bought.
“Wilder,” he sighs, as I take out the antiseptic wipes, along with some small bandages and medical tape, and I fucking hate that he knew exactly what he needed.
“Sit down,” I command, pulling out one of the stools at his island, and he stares at me.
“I said you should leave,” he tries again, but I fix him with a glare.
“Last I checked, I wasn’t hard of hearing, Blue.”
“Are you sure about that?”
This time I didn't stop myself from reaching out to him, bringing my hands up to gently cup his face, before dropping my head to his.
“Blue, just let me do this, please, I have to,” I breathe, ignoring the way his scent mixes with the smell of iron.
“Besides, I've done this before, remember? I’m an expert now.”
His eyes fill instantly, as another humorless laugh escapes him. “Yeah, me too.” The words hang between us, but still he closes his eyes and breathes me in, before pulling back and finally taking a seat.
Reed doesn’t flinch as I take care of him, not when I clean the cut on his lips, or when I press a cold pack on the swelling bruise beneath his eye.
He just lets me take care of him, like he’s too tired to pretend anymore, and I handle him like he is the most precious thing in the world, because to me, he is.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I shake my head.
“Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for, I’m happy to take care of you.”
“That’s not why I was apologizing.”
My eyes flick to meet his, and I smile. “I know, baby.”
I take my time cleaning and dressing his injuries, cataloging them, and doing my best to act like I don’t want to murder his father in cold blood.
He did this, he fucking did this, and worse, Reed accepted it.
He took all his wrath and fury, just to protect his brother, and I hate that he did it, but I hate even more that I understand him.
How many times did I pull Jason out of trouble?
How many people told me he couldn’t be helped?
That’s why Caden did what he did, and why he didn’t tell me until it was done, because he knew I’d have tried to protect him in some way.
I still don’t know what pushed him to the edge and made him snap, but I do know it must have been something bad.
Like Reed taking all of his father’s abuse.
I know Caden will make him pay, because he knows he deserves it, just like Jason did.
Once I’m done patching Reed up, I force some painkillers down his throat, which he tries to refuse, before I set about making us both something to eat.
My head is throbbing from all the alcohol I consumed, so I make sure to pick something quick and easy, and thirty minutes later we are both sitting with a bowl of pasta each.
I watch him eat slowly, knowing it’s because he’s in too much pain to chew, and by the time he’s done, I know any adrenaline that was keeping him upright has worn off completely. His shoulders are now slumped instead of tense, and his eyes hold only exhaustion and fear.
“When did you last sleep?” I ask, and his gaze meets mine with a frown.
“When did you last sleep?” he tosses back, trying to turn things on me, except I have no trouble answering him.
“Two weeks ago,” I reply, not dropping his stare, which means I see the flash of guilt, and when he remains quiet in response, I know he must be the same. “Come on, bedroom,” I demand, taking the bowl from him and dumping both of them into the sink.
“What?”
“You heard me, bedroom now, you need to rest.” I’ve not even finished speaking before he is already shaking his head, trying to refuse me.
“No, I can’t, I need to find Eloise.” He tries to reach for his phone, but I snatch it off the table beside him before he can.
“Caden’s on it,” I tell him firmly, but still he’s not having it.
“You don’t understand, if he finds her before I do...” His face twists with pain as he pushes to his feet, but I step in his track.
“Do you trust me?” I stare him down until his eyes meet mine, and eventually he nods. “Then trust me when I say Caden has got this.”
Almost on cue, my phone buzzes.
Caden - Still no sign of Eloise. We're checking every lead. Freddie is safe. I'll update you in two hours.
I turn the screen toward Reed and he reads it twice. “There is no one I trust more than him to keep them safe. I promise, Blue.”
Reed still refuses to go to bed, but I manage to get him to lie back a little on the sofa, and for the next few hours we both remain pretty quiet, only talking when Caden sends his updates.
It isn’t until the sun starts to go down and we’ve eaten again, and I have topped Reed up with more meds, that he lets his eyes droop.
“Bedroom,” I demand, and this time he doesn’t refuse, not when Caden has assured he’s got eyes on Freddie and his mom, and Eloise is still nowhere to be found.
So I help him to his feet, grinding my jaw as he limps toward his room, so much so, that I can’t even enjoy being in his personal space for the first time.
I make quick work of helping him to the bathroom, before leaving him to freshen up, and only when he emerges do I help him into bed, before dropping into the chair at his dressing table.
“You’re staying?” he asks, and I try not to be offended at the question.
“I’m not leaving you, Blue.”
I don’t bother telling him that I don’t just mean tonight, but still he nods with a slight smile. “Thank you, Wilder, for everything.” I only return his nod, and then pull out my phone for another one of Caden’s updates.
After that Reed drifts into a deep sleep, probably brought on by the pain meds, and I tell myself I’ll only stay awake long enough to make sure he’s settled.
Except one hour turns into two, until they start slipping by completely unnoticed.
Every so often he shifts and I see the grimace of pain, even in his slumber, and every time I imagine how I would inflict the same pain on his father.
I’m not sure what time I drifted off, but a noise wakes me, my head instantly snapping toward Reed, but he is still sleeping soundly. I hear the noise again and recognize it as coming from the kitchen, and I exhale in relief.
Eloise. She came back. She’s safe.
I quietly slip from Reed’s room and pad down the hallway to the smell of fresh coffee, except when I round the corner, I don’t find Eloise.
Caden stands in the kitchen, wearing the same black shirt as yesterday, sleeves rolled to his elbows, as he calmly pours coffee into a mug like he owns the place.
He doesn’t even look up as I enter. “Good morning,” he grunts, focusing only on his coffee and I can’t help but be confused.
“Is it?” I ask with a scoff, wondering how the hell he even got back in here, when I know I locked up before going to bed, but Caden only shrugs, turning to look at me.
“Yes, it is,” he replies slowly, meeting my stare, and he doesn’t need to say it, I already know it’s done.
Reed’s father is dead.