29. Lily
29
LILY
Six days later
“ W hat are you doin’ out of bed?” Slash demands. He rushes to my side and manhandles me back under the covers. “I don’t think you should be walkin’ yet.”
“I’m not disabled,” I mutter under my breath. In a louder voice, I add. “Need to pee.”
“ Oh .” He blushes, then drags the comforter off me and scoops me into his arms. “I’ll take you.”
“You’re not taking me to the bathroom.”
Warm, minty breath ruffles the hair at my crown when Slash huffs. “Been carryin’ you there for days… not sure why it’s such an issue now.”
The normalcy between us proves fleeting as the spectre of Zeke reappears to haunt us. I haven’t laid eyes on my fiancé since that night, and the excuses I’m being fed to explain his absence are wearing thin. For the first three and a bit days, I was in a daze. Didn’t really notice anything was amiss because I was too focused on the flaring pain in my stomach and what it meant.
I was pregnant.
Emphasis on the past tense.
Every second I’m awake, Bebe’s soft confession when she climbed onto the bed with me after I fainted reverberates around my head.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie, but you’re having a miscarriage.”
For one terrible moment, my heart had soared. Against all odds, Zeke had got me pregnant. The queasiness I’d been dealing with had a cause. A reason. My body wasn’t as broken as my doctors had believed. I was going to be a mum.
Of course, as quickly as happiness bloomed, it shrivelled in the next instant.
I was losing the baby.
Because of Alex.
Because I hadn’t fought hard enough to save the life growing inside me.
“Do you want me to send Nads in so you can shower while you’re out of bed?”
Peering up at Slash’s face, I roll my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. I’m not as sore as I was. My face is healing, and my ribs aren’t hampering my movements as much as they were, but on the inside, I’m a mess.
A blubbering, needy mess.
I want to be all cried out. I’ve spent almost a week sobbing on someone’s shoulder. Nadia’s. Slash’s. Isaiah’s. Cub’s. Sander’s. Even Toker’s when he was wheeled into the room to sit with me. My cousin’s busted face isn’t quite as bad as mine, but his broken arm and pelvis really put the pain I’m feeling into perspective.
My damage is internal.
Toker’s is clear to see.
After being knocked unconscious and literally thrown into the back of a truck, he was used as a human shield to help Bear escape when the Shamrocks caught up with him two days later as he cleaned out a storage shed filled with drugs, cash, and the evidence of his links to the Bishops of Bloodshed. When my cousin was no longer of use, he was tossed out of the truck at high speed and left for dead. He landed in a ditch, out of sight of passing traffic, unable to pull himself to safety with only one functioning arm and fading consciousness.
If it wasn’t for Isaiah, Hunter, and Cub refusing to give up on him, he wouldn’t have survived.
Those three boys are the heroes of this entire disaster. With the Shamrocks’ leadership out of action, they handled all the logistics. They got rid of Alex’s body. Cleaned up the not-so-safe house. Assisted the brothers who were ambushed to get medical attention. Disposed of the evidence linking the club to the hit made on the Bishops in retaliation. Helped organise the funerals of the men who lost their lives that night.
Weston. Tank. Our youngest prospect, Rider.
Unfortunately, the main villain—my father—hasn’t shown his face yet. He’s been holed up at Doc’s. Refusing visits. Declaring he has nothing to answer for. Since everyone has been careful to keep me from overhearing too much, I’m not sure whether that’s true or if Dad is hedging his bets because he knows Bear made off with anything that could implicate him.
In the face of the stonewalling that I receive every time I ask when Zeke will be back from this mystery mission he’s on, I’m beginning to worry that there might be a second villain in the sorry tale that is my life.
My stomach churns, and I gently lay my hand on it.
“Fuck, Cherub,” Slash’s voice is mournful as his gaze flits between my belly and my face. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then sets me on the edge of the bath. “I’ll get Nads.”
Once he’s gone, I hobble over to the door and lock it. I relieve myself without an audience. Never one to admit when I’m beaten, I unbutton the nightdress I’m wearing and let it drop to the tiles. The disposable maternity underwear Bebe brought for me follow. I use my toes to lift them into the bin. It’s humiliating, being this useless, but it’s an improvement on the first few days when I had to be undressed by Nadia, Charlie, or Crystal, and held upright under the warm water because my legs refused to cooperate. Slash wasn’t exaggerating when he said he’d been carrying me around for days. My grip on reality was snapped by the reappearance of Alex’s monster, but slowly and surely, my head is clearing, and the emotions I’ve been suppressing are seeping into my psyche.
Holding my hand under the water, I wait for it to warm up. As I’m twisting the cold water tap to adjust the temperature, the sound of a heated conversation erupts from the other side of the door.
“I’m telling her,” Nadia declares.
“Just give her a couple more days of peace,” Slash cautions in a low voice. “He has to come back for the funerals. With Brutus still out of action, he’s in charge. He’ll see sense after they sit down and talk.”
My best friend is scathing as she says, “He better not come back. I’ll pop a cap in his arse and set his corpse on fire if I see him.”
“I might’ve told him somethin’ similar.” Slash inhales noisily. “I was pissed at him when I said it… thinkin’ that was the wrong move now. If you can keep your mouth shut for another day or two, things will work themselves out. I’ll drag him home by his nut sack if I have to.”
“He doesn’t deserve to get off that easily. She deserves to know.”
“It was his baby, too. Don’t think he’s gettin’ off easy at all.”
Edging closer to the door when I realise that they are, in fact, discussing Zeke’s absence, I hold my breath as I wait for Nadia to say something else. There is silence for a moment, then she breaks what’s left of my heart with her next statement.
“You’ve got two days to get him back from Sydney… after that, I’m telling her the truth. We can’t keep lying to her. It’ll just make things worse when she finds out. We’ve both been down that path with Cherub before. No way am I covering for him a second longer. He’s lucky I agreed to Sander’s stupid plan in the first place ’cause I’ll never forgive Zeke for desertin’ her like this.”
I’ve heard enough.
My fingers tremble as I flick the lock open. On wobbly legs, I step under the shower head and lift my face toward the ceiling. Tears stream down my face, but I pretend it’s only shower water that’s rolling down my cheeks. My heart may know better. Thankfully, my head is on board with blocking out my reaction to the truth I just overheard.
Zeke left me.
Shaking that thought out of my head, I do my best to pretend I’m oblivious to the tentative way Nadia approaches me. Unlocking the door like that wasn’t exactly subtle. No doubt they’re both wondering if I heard them. It’s cruel, yet I take a little bit of pleasure from knowing that they’re now treading lightly on the edge of the same rug that was just ripped out from under my feet.
“Heya, Anna. You’re looking better today.”
I swipe at my wet face and lick my lips. Straightening my shoulders and holding myself as tall as I can, I push through the ache gripping my heart and the soreness that is slowly leaving my body to offer her a tight smile, then a nod. When Nadia’s eyes widen at my fake poise, I feel my chin wobble. It takes a second to get myself back under control, but I manage it.
“I feel better… not perfect, just not as delicate as I have been.”
“That’s—” She pulls the toilet lid down and perches on top of it. “—good.”
An uneasiness grows between us that I do nothing to dissipate. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Nadia drops her gaze to her phone and starts typing. As soon as I’m sure her attention is off me, I mentally zone out, reaching inside myself and grabbing hold of the strands of numbness that held me captive five years ago. Back then, Zeke fought his way past my mask to force me to feel again. Now, he’s the reason I need this escape.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Alex’s attack isn’t what broke me this time round.
The man who asked me to trust him is responsible for smashing everything that we worked together to rebuild. We created a life—literally and metaphorically—and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me it was over. It takes a second to mentally dig through all my internal scar tissue to find the detachment I’m looking for. Once I find it, I grasp hold of it with every ounce of willpower I possess. My gaze lowers to the shaver Charlie dropped off for me at some stage. I haven’t been interested in, or capable of, personal grooming.
In truth, I’m still not.
That’s not the point, though.
My fingers pulse with the desire to take hold of the handle. After slanting a glance at Nadia, I give in to my craving and pick it up. The pink grip feels like heaven in my hand. I turn my back to my best friend—the liar—and hunch my shoulders.
Thigh or stomach?
The question stumps me for a second before the choice becomes clear.
I turn my leg out and run the safety razor sideways across the soft flesh at the uppermost point of my thigh. The cut is shallow. It barely wells with blood. Even so, the sting that erupts when I allow water to hit the laceration is enough to make me let out a low hiss from between my teeth.
“You okay there?” Nadia asks.
Shooting her a small smile over my shoulder, I say, “Moved too fast. Can you grab me some paracetamol?”
“Are you sure you’re all right with me leaving?”
“It’s only for a few seconds.”
Nadia hesitates, then dips her head. “I’ll be right back.”
The moment she’s gone, I press the razor to my stomach, right next to a surgery scar and drag it over my skin. This time, on softer flesh, it slices deeper. I luxuriate in the burn as the water runs over the wound. Head back, eyes shut, I breathe deep and imagine all the venom left by Zeke is mingling with Alex’s poison as it drains from my body. When the pain passes, I use my fingernails to gouge the cut so it’ll bleed faster. My body trembles as my adrenaline spikes and the tight control that was once my favourite companion whisks all the bad feelings away.
“Do you want me to help with your hair?” When I jerk at the sound of Nadia’s voice, the razor drops out of my hand. It clangs as it bounces on the tiles. I glance down at it, then at my best friend. She screws up her face like she’s in pain, and her voice wobbles when she says, “ Oh , Anna. Not again.”
“This is the first time since…” I trail off, unable to say his name.
Nadia opens the shower cubicle and snatches the razor from the floor. She tosses it in the bin then steps under the spray with all her clothes on. I collapse against her when she wraps her arms around my waist. Her shoulders shake. Mine match hers.
“You heard us, didn’t you?”
With my face buried in her neck, I nod.
“He’s not worth hurting yourself for... no man is.”
I sniff. “I told him I’d die without him, and he still left me.”
“And that’s his fuck-up. Not yours. If he can’t stay through the worst times, you’re better off without him. You’ve got me… and everyone else.” Nadia’s fingers are gentle as she nudges me out of her arms and lifts my chin to make me look at her. In her forest-green eyes, I find unconditional love. “I’m an addict, Anna. Have been since I was fourteen. Bear used to beat the shit out of me just because the day ended with y … yet I stayed with him. I’m still in love with Sander—the same man I once plied with drugs, so he’d look twice at me. I’m as fucked up as one woman can be… but I can promise you one thing. I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave.’ Determination fills her expression. “Fuck Venom. He’s already been replaced. By me.”
“I love you.”
Her expression crumbles, and a trail of tears roll out of her eyes. “And I love you. We’re ride or die. I know I let you down when we were teens… that won’t happen again. I promise. We’re tough bitches. We stick together.” Nadia clicks her tongue and tilts her head toward the ceiling. “Fuck men!”
I mimic her action, screaming as loud as I can with a still-tender throat, “Fuck men!”
“Now turn around,” she orders. Even with her clothes plastered to her body and her makeup streaming down her face, Nadia is unflappable. “This greasy hair needs some love.”
In the companionable silence that dawns after my little breakdown, I try to find the words to properly convey how grateful I am that she caught me before I could hurt myself too badly. The sentiment sits wedged in my chest. I can’t make myself say it. There’s a block. Something caught between my intentions and my ability to act on them.
“Stop it,” Nadia cautions. She wrings the last of the water out of my hair then squirts body wash onto my loofah. “I can hear you overthinking things.”
“I’m just thankful it was you and not?—”
“Any person here would’ve done exactly the same as me. No one is going to judge you for trying to cope. All we want is for you to find a healthy way through…”
When Nadia trails off, I finish her sentence, “Like group therapy.”
“Yep.” She nods with grim promise. “I’ll even make you an appointment. Drive you there. Sit in on it if you need me to.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.” The seriousness drops from her expression, and Nadia grins as she hands me my loofah. She runs a hand down her body while she quips, “Now, you wash up… I need to get out of these wet clothes before I end up with chafing.”