6. Whats up, Doc?
Chapter 6
What's up, Doc?
Ariana
M y whole head fucking hurts. So does my hand. And my foot. I probably shouldn’t have kicked that jackass so many times in these flats, but he fucked up my face. And my shoes.
I’m trying to ignore what else is going on in my body, but it’s hard with Luca right there in the driver’s seat. My seat. His eyes constantly go to the rearview mirror, like he’s checking to make sure I’m still here or still alive or… something. I don’t know. It’s kind of a glare and kind of a caress. I’m pretty sure I love it even though it’s confusing as fuck, and thinking about it is making my head hurt more.
It’s also kind of turning me on.
So, I’m ignoring it. I don’t catch feelings for anyone, and I’m not about to start with Lil’s cousin. Fuck, I mean, he’s Dad’s nephew, for hell’s sake. Big nope. No thanks, not happening.
But I can’t keep my mind off of him. Or my eyes. He’s got to be a foot and a half taller than I am and must live in the gym. His jaw is strong and square, his lips are full, and there’s no way his nose hasn’t been broken at least once, and those things come together to create a face that’s ALL the words for attractive. His dark hair is just long enough to grab if I were so inclined. Not that I am. I’m not. I do not want to grab his hair…
How would someone not notice the corded muscles in his arms and the way his shirt stretches across his chest? He’s like a romance book character come to life, and for a second when I first saw him get out of Dad’s SUV, I thought maybe I was hit harder than I realized and hallucinated him. Shit… from that very first moment when his blue eyes met mine, it’s like something inside me came alive. Instead of being terrified when this giant of a man came storming toward me, I felt safe. Then he touched my chin—gently, as if I was made of glass. He stood staring down at me like… like something my brain can’t even process right now. I don’t know how to deal with any of it, especially with this headache. So, denial it is.
Lil is blabbering on about the movie we didn’t really watch. Rambling, because that’s what she does after panic mode. She rambles a lot anyway, but I can tell the difference between normal Lil rambling and recently-freaked-the-fuck-out Lil rambling. She’s trying to keep herself from crying by jabbering, and that’s fine by me because crying Lil is pretty much the worst version of Lil.
I lean my head back and close my eyes for a few minutes. It’s a short drive home really, even with Lil’s horrible navigation skills. “The guy and girl don’t even end up together at the end of the movie, so what the fuck… Oh shit, you were supposed to turn there.”
A little snort-laugh leaves my mouth. Fuck, that’s embarrassing. “You’re terrible at this, Lil.” I try to focus on drinking my shake without hurting my lip. It’s worth the pain, though. Shakes from Gordie’s are special. Everyone says they’re the best shakes around, and they’re right, but for us DeVilles, it goes beyond that. They’re our ultimate comfort drink .
Lil gestures toward Luca. “Hey, maybe if this dickhead ever visited, I wouldn’t have to give him directions to our house.”
The dickhead in question mumbles something I don’t fully catch, but it sounds like, “Mom doesn’t… grumble grumble… visit… grumble grumble… Marco and Mia… grumble.”
We pull up to the guardhouse outside the tall ass wall that surrounds the property. Dad must have called the guys ahead of time because they only do a quick check of Luca’s driver’s license before opening the gate.
“Damn, Ari!” Stew bends to look through Luca’s open window. We might not know every single one of Dad’s men by name, but we sure as hell know the ones here at the house. The guards are usually some of my first testers for new recipes. It’s fun to throw cupcakes and muffins at them like grenades as we drive by. Stew’s been around for a couple of years and is a harmless flirt. “You okay?” he asks me.
“Do I not look okay?” I ask as innocently as possible.
Stew grins. “Yeah, you’re fine, smart ass.” He stands up and taps the roof of the car. When Luca doesn’t start driving, Stew glances at him and pales a little before backing up. “Uh, go ahead.”
Luca rolls up the window and pulls forward. I can’t see his face, but the tension coming off of him is almost visible.
Huh. That was weird.
But I don’t have time to keep thinking about it, because Mom’s standing on the front steps, wringing her hands. My chest tightens with guilt. I hate when she worries. She’s next to the car before we can open our doors and pulls me in for a hug as soon as my feet hit the ground. Her hands rub along my back in the way that’s soothed me since I was a kid, and I sigh happily, snuggling into her.
“My babies,” she says in a quiet, almost broken voice. I breathe in her soft, familiar perfume and wrap my arms around her waist. She didn’t give birth to me, but that’s never mattered to any of us, and she’s the best mom anyone could ask for.
“We’re okay, Mom,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
She pulls back and lightly cups my cheeks, taking in my injuries. Fire fills her eyes. Mom’s sweet, but she’s a fierce mama bear.
“You should see the other guy,” I joke, trying to make her smile.
It works. It always works.
“Yeah, he looks a lot worse. Ari kneed his junk into his throat, broke his nose, and shot him in the knee… possibly his dick, too.” Lil tilts her head and shrugs. “Who knows? Then we kicked him while he cried and begged on the ground, so I’m calling it a win for us.” She grins before taking a sip of her shake.
“Good girls. Come on, let’s have Doc take a look at that head wound.” Mom nods in Luca’s direction. “Luca, thanks for getting my girls home to me.”
He nods back at her before his eyes drift my way again.
“Ford will show you to the shed,” Mom says, smiling fondly at Dad’s second-in-command as he strides over from his SUV. To most, he’s Ford James, Marco DeVille’s underboss. To some, he’s the boogeyman. Don’t say his name three times in front of a mirror in a dark room, urban legend bullshit. He’s the big bad wolf. A ghost.
Really, he’s karma. But he’s Uncle Ford to us.
“You good, Airhead?”
“Been better, Explorer.” Okay, we rarely call him Uncle Ford. Because calling him other shit is a lot more fun. And he started it! “But I’ve been worse. This is nothing.”
Mom herds us toward the house, not letting go of me the whole way.
“Luca gets to go to the shed already? Jeez, he just got here! Dad gets to go to the shed. Sully gets to go to the shed. Ford basically lives in the shed. Ari gets to go to the shed… maybe one of these days I want to go to the shed,” Lil whines.
But she’s lying, and we all know it. Lil’s tough, but she’s not ‘take a walk into the shed’ tough. I’ve gone in a few times. My moral compass is a little more skewed than Lil’s… and definitely more than Mom’s… I might not find pleasure in some of the shit that goes on in that building, but honestly, as long as the people who need to die actually do in the end, I don’t give a fuck what Dad or Ford or Sully or… I guess now Luca does to them before they take their last breath. I prefer the simple quickness of a bullet to the head, but I also like my knives, even though maybe I’m not supposed to. Dad promised to save me a seat next to him in Hell if he gets there first.
I’ve always wondered if the afterlife is when Lil and I will finally be separated, but I’m not sure that girl’s getting into heaven, either. Maybe it makes me a bad person to hope she doesn’t. I don’t want to spend eternity without her.
Turning my head, my gaze collides with Luca’s as Mom tells Lil, “You can’t handle what happens in the shed.”
His eyebrow is raised, like he’s curious about me. Then I’m in the house and can’t see him anymore. Why do I suddenly feel sad, almost… empty? Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.
We follow Mom into the dining room, where Doc is waiting with his medical bag on the table. Usually, he’s here to patch up one of the guys, and he’s always quick to give Lil and me a smile like he didn’t just have to dig a bullet out of someone’s shoulder or stitch up a knife wound. His smile is a lot less bright tonight, and his eyes are filled with concern when he sees me. The times he’s had to check on me or Lil have mostly been because I made the mistake of letting her drive a fucking car.
My mistake tonight was letting my guard down. I got lost in my own head with my backup too far away. I know better.
Doc runs through all his head wound protocols, and I say a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever gods might be listening when he says I don’t have a concussion because they suck ass. With an ice pack on my aching hand, Lil sits next to me. She wraps the locket around my wrist before linking her pinky with mine while Doc cleans my wounds and stitches them up more carefully than he ever does for the guys, trying to minimize scarring. I appreciate the thought, but what’s a couple more?
“This lip will probably take twice as long to heal as it should,” Doc warns me.
“Why?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Because your mouth needs to stay closed for that to happen.” He winks. Lil giggles. I huff and glare at them both. But he has a point. I tend to talk a lot. Even more than Lil, which is saying something.
After promising to take it easy for a couple of days, I choke down the pain meds he gives me even though I don’t want to. I hate how that shit makes me feel and would rather take a couple of shots of vodka or eat an edible, but in the interest of following Doc’s orders, I suck it up and swallow the pills.
In the shower, I turn the water up as hot as I can stand it, hoping it helps wash away the memory of some creeper’s hard dick pressed against me. I’m still mad at myself for letting him get the jump on me. And I’m trying to ignore that Lil’s hot cousin makes me feel things and looks at me like I could be his everything. I’m never going to be anyone’s everything. I’m too fucked up. Too damaged. Too codependent.
After putting on my favorite yoga pants and a t-shirt that says, ‘Books are better than people,’ I head back downstairs to the kitchen. I want to drown my sorrows in ice cream since I can’t drown them in the liquor we have hidden in Lil’s closet. I don’t mix pills and booze. Some mistakes you only make once.