Chapter 16 #3
“Yes. This doesn’t minimize how lethal I am,” Lyle drawls.
“We’re all adults here. My pack is courting your sister.
We can’t change our ages and we’ve waited a long time to meet her.
She’s safe in our home and we’re going to continue to teach her how to kill people because she’s very good at it.
My ability to manipulate the law keeps us all out of prison.
End of story. How else is she supposed to process the fuckload of trauma she has. ”
“Therapy?” Caleb asks.
“Ew,” I reply. “I don’t want to emotionally bleed once a week on someone else’s couch. I’m not sure therapy is something I want to do.”
“If you change your mind, I have trauma therapists through the police force who work differently,” Easton murmurs. “They can help you sleep better.”
“Yeah?” I ask curiously, twisting to look at him. His nostrils flare at how close I am to him and he dips his chin in agreement.
“You don’t have to commit to anything, and you can screen the therapists before deciding on one,” he says softly.
“Choose a couple of things to work on instead of drowning in all the details. People think they have to fix everything and blow up all the careful sutures they’ve done to keep themselves together. They don’t.”
“I’ll think about it,” I rasp. I turn back to face the phone, knowing I’ll kiss him if I don’t.
My brothers are watching us closely and as one they lean back heavily on the wall as if they’ve decided on something at the same time.
“This isn’t just physical,” Lars says, his tone showing he’s trying to understand this.
“Should it be?” Easton asks. “Why isn’t your estimation of your sister higher? She’s beautiful, smart, and keeps me on my toes. The way she sees the world is fucking fascinating.”
“This sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Silas says to my brothers, moving to stand behind Easton and I.
“We’re being ganged up on,” Lars says, lips twitching. “You’re right. Alisa sees the world in a way few do. Caleb and I read your diary together while we were looking for you.”
“Rude,” I gasp, horrified.
“We wanted to see if there was a guy you’d been talking to,” Caleb sighs. “The break in was so clean, it looked as if you may have slipped out your bedroom window on your own steam. The more we searched, the more we realized there was no reason for you to leave in the middle of the night.”
“You were happy in your life,” Hollis adds.
“I was,” I agree. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to.”
It makes sense they’d look through my diary if they wanted to check my headspace at the time.
“You had a diary?” Easton asks, sounding intrigued.
“My sister can use Hollis to hurt us. Let’s pretend we didn’t mention it,” Lars says, looking green.
“I was fourteen,” I groan. “Of course I had a diary.”
“I hope you continue writing,” Caleb says, sobering. “It didn’t look like you ever finished any of your stories, but they were really good.”
“My brain never lets me finish anything,” I explain. “I’d just jump from thought to thought.”
Hollis blinks at my words and I give her a look of confusion.
“You used to have trouble sleeping too, right?” she asks. “Your brain never shut up?”
“Still doesn’t,” I grumble.
“You should write,” she says firmly. “Get the jumble of thoughts out and it could help. More people than you’d think are like this.”
A purr of approval rumbles at my back and I get the feeling there’s more to this.
“So it’s something to do with my brain?” I ask, confused.
“You make a murder room fun,” Easton chuckles. “When you’re bored, you look for another toy to play with. How quiet was your brain yesterday at the warehouse?”
“It was as if I was chasing some type of high,” I admit. “My brain felt quiet and busy. I used to listen to violin music as a kid. It was such an odd choice, but it felt so good to listen to.”
“Like happy brain scratches,” Silas muses.
“Ah, yes. Exactly like that.”
“We never noticed you have ADHD,” Caleb says, putting pieces I don’t understand together. “Your grades were always good and you never seemed chaotic.”
“It presents differently for girls,” Lyle grunts. “There’s nothing wrong with it, Alisa. It’s simply a piece of information to help understand how to make things work for you. I think writing is a good idea. Do you want a notebook or a computer?”
“Oh, a notebook is fine,” I say wide eyed.
“I have a laptop I’m no longer using because I just upgraded my work one,” Lyle says. “It’s yours. Now, you can use both and see which tool you prefer.”
“Shit. I think we may have to like these guys,” Caleb grumbles.
“I agree,” Lars says. “We’ll be in Savannah by the end of the week, Alisa. I need a damn hug and I need to bake for you. I’ve learned a thing or two about feeding omegas whose appetite is wonky for one reason or another.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
“Caleb and I have given jobs to people down on their luck who have zero experience simply because we believe in karma. We hoped wherever you were, someone would help you,” he says.
“Ugh. I just stopped crying,” I wail, my lips trembling. Easton’s arms hold me tighter as I cry and Lars gives me a small smile.
“It’s also completely true. I may have been grumpy as fuck about it, but Caleb and I wanted to make a difference in your name,” he says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”
“I’m going with them,” Hollis says, stealing the phone away from Caleb. Her eyes sparkle with repressed tears and she looks seconds from crying too. “I can’t wait to see you, kiddo.”
The call disconnects and I twist in Easton’s arms to wrap my arms around his neck. Silas rubs my back as I sob and Lyle sighs softly.
“I suppose I shouldn’t want to kill your brothers, right?” he asks. “In between calls, I did a little research, Alisa. Your hormones are going to be a little crazy because of the miscarriage.”
“Is that why I’m a literal faucet?” I ask.
“Mmhmm,” he says. “I’ve noticed you don’t like to cry.”
“I hate it,” I admit, the tears getting Easton’s shirt wet.
“You’re going to make yourself dizzy with your emotions for a little while then,” Silas says. “I may punch your brothers, sweetheart. Just once.”
“Hollis says they have punchable faces.”
Silas chuckles, continuing to rub my back as the tears begin to slow.
“I might have something to make you feel better,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“Troy has some time to talk and texted the group chat. Are you up for another video call?”
A wide smile splits my lips as I nod, despite my tears.
“I look like shit,” I complain, knowing my eyes are swollen.
“You’re beautiful,” Easton says, kissing me as I lift my face. I kiss him back and he groans as he deepens things until I open my mouth to him. “I can’t rile you up, baby. I think I like the taste of your tears though. Not enough to make you cry…”
Silas rubs my cheek with his thumb, gathering tears on it before he sucks the liquid off it with his own low sound of pleasure.
“There are specific situations where I’d be alright with you crying, but we can’t discuss them yet,” he murmurs.
Despite how much sex I’ve had, I’m still naive enough to not understand what he means. Lyle steals me away to kiss my cheek, but I don’t miss the way he licks his lips to taste my tears.
“Not yet,” he promises, “but we can when you’re ready. Let’s go call Troy from the den couch. Then, we can snuggle. I see a couple of hours of ignoring my clients in my future while I study the back of my eyelids.”
Lyle picks me up as I feel a wave of tiredness hit me, and I decide he may be right. Sleep sounds really good after our early morning.