Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Eddie has been working on an injury menu for you,” Levee declared, walking into the living room as well. “All your favorites,” he added.
“Why don’t you crash down here?” Seeley suggested, waving toward the couch. “Since we have to get going in a few hours anyway.”
My ribs had no desire to climb the steps, so I did just that, knocking out within a half an hour to the throbbing in damn near every inch of my body.
As I anticipated, I woke up feeling like complete shit. With some help from Che, I got changed for my scan, then left with Seeley.
Thankfully, it was a mild enough concussion that Ama was willing to prescribe me the good shit, so when I got home, I popped some, and knocked off for the majority of the day.
If people came and went, which I’m sure they did, I was completely oblivious.
It was the pots and pans banging that finally pulled me awake.
I just lay there for a minute, listening to the guys in the kitchen talking. Upstairs, someone was showering. For some reason, the tortoise had found his way into the living room with me.
Pulling myself up, I dragged my ass to the bathroom where I finally got a look at myself
It wasn’t good.
I looked like some fucking cliché stock image of an accident victim with my neck brace, gauze, and cast. There was a nasty-ass bruise forming across my cheek from where the side of my helmet had crunched inward and pushed against my skin.
I felt just as bad, if not worse.
My stomach was killing me. Likely from taking pain pills on an empty stomach.
So I followed that pain out to the kitchen where it looked like Eddie was preparing… dinner?
“What time is it?” I asked, glancing out the window, shocked to find it dark already.
“Just after eight,” Alaric told me, wincing when he looked at me. “How you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I admitted. “Need some food.”
“Yeah, man, taking them pills on an empty stomach is a no-no,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “I got some baked mac & cheese done,” he told me, waving toward a tin. “Then some wings over there,” he went on, waving toward another tin. “Chili is on the stove. And I’ve got some cheese-stuffed manicotti coming out in a few minutes.”
“You didn’t have to make all of this,” I told him, knowing he’d picked a bunch of the food he knew to be my comfort foods.
“Course I did. Food is medicine, man. Gotta do my part to make ya feel better, y’know?”
Eddie was a good man.
Salt of the Earth.
Too good for the club, honestly.
But I think I spoke for all of us when I said I was glad to have him around.
If there was ever someone you could count on to focus on the bright side, to remind you that shit isn’t as bad as it seems, it was Eddie.
And when I was feeling like crap, having that little bit of light was good.
So I loaded up a plate, and buried that stomach pain under a ton of cheese, pasta, and even some sugar cookies that he also made. Sugar sprinkles only. Because Eddie paid attention to those sorts of details.
“Who is that?” I asked when I heard a bike rumbling closer.
“Remy or McCoy, I guess,” Alaric said. “Huck wants to have an unofficial meeting. Everyone has been out, working on some leads, putting feelers out, that kind of shit,” he told me.
I heard the front door close, and then McCoy’s phone rang, making him pause.
“Hello?” he answered, and I was only half-paying attention until his voice tensed. “Hold on. Slow down. What is going on?” he asked, walking in through the kitchen, looking around. “The girls from last night,” he mouthed to us, making me tense.
Why would they be calling?
“Okay. Alright. It’s okay. You still got the gun, right? Alright. Stay put. I’m on my way.”
“I’m coming,” I said, hopping up so fast that the world spun and my ribs screamed.
McCoy looked like he wanted to object. But he said nothing, just nodded at me.
“You too,” he demanded, nodding his chin at Alaric who was already turning, grabbing one of the guns that we had hidden all around. Up high, so the kids couldn’t get them.
With that, we were making our way to the SUV.
“What is going on?” I asked.
“Someone broke into their house,” McCoy said. “They’re freaked the fuck out.”
“You gave them a gun?” I asked, glad that they had something to protect themselves with since I was the reason they were likely in danger.
“Yeah,” McCoy said, nodding. “Let’s just hope the crazy-ass one doesn’t shoot us when we pull up.”
“Triss,” I supplied.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“I didn’t get the other girl’s name.”
“Maeve,” McCoy told me, making me jolt.
Maeve?
What were the chances that was her name?
CHAPTER FIVE
Maeve
Eventually, the adrenaline of the night had made us crash. I mean, sure, it was around the time that the sun had just started to come up, when the world always felt a little safer, but at least we slept.