Page 58 of Callum

“Just wondering why Rosie’s wearing your shirt and you’re not.”

“She needed to cover up.”

I can feel the ridiculous look Lachlan is giving me right now, but I refuse to acknowledge it. “And she doesn’t have any other clothes?”

“There wasn’t time to get her clothes.”

Lachlan chuckles into his beer before pushing off the counter. He disappears into the bedroom, and I almost stalk after him, but he’s back before I can tear my eyes away from Rosalind.

Something hits me in the chest, and I catch the black button-up before it falls onto the beige countertop. “I’m tired of looking at your nipples through that thin-ass tank top.”

“Then stop looking at my nipples,” I huff, sliding the button up over my arms.

“Would you rather I look at something else?” His eyes cut toward the living room where Rosalind is trying to wipe hair out of her face with the back of one blood-covered hand. Something rumbles through my chest, and Lachlan has the good sense to take a step back.

Being the Mouth wouldn’t save him from the Doctor’s hands, and he fucking knows it. I would pull his organs through his asshole, then slice him open to put them back if he ever even thought about touching her. “I wasn’t looking at your woman, Doc. I was being a good boy and looking at your nipples, remember?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping get rid of the body?” I toss my empty beer bottle into the small recycling bin near the back door, ignoring the loud crashing sound it makes. I have no idea if anyone collects the recycling here, but it feels wrong not to use the bin when it’s right fucking there.

“That requires me to be near—”

“Just fucking help her, you dickhead.”

Lachlan’s bottle follows mine before he heads into the living room, and I see him whisper something to Rosalind that I can’t hear. She looks up at him from her place next to Bishop’s head, gratitude written in every line of her body, and my heart squeezes in my chest.

“You really couldn’t have waited until he put his dick away?” Lachlan throws Bishop’s limp body over his shoulder like the man weighs nothing. The look of horror in Lachlan’s eyes when he realizes how close the movement brings Bishop’s dick to his face is almost enough to make me laugh.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I shrug, keeping my voice as innocent as possible. Rosalind mumbles something to Lachlan, and he laughs.

“You fucking owe me, Cal,” Lachlan calls in my direction on his way out the door, and I flip him off.

Rosalind studies the massive blood stain left on the carpet, a calculating look in her eyes. “Do we have any—”

“Did you fuck him?” Dammit. The question falls from my mouth without permission, but now that it’s out there, I want to know the answer. I need to know the answer.

“I already told you that I didn’t.”

“Not Bishop.” I step into the living room to get a better look at her. The shirt is now covered in blood, and her knees match. It looks like she was kneeling at a sacrificial altar, and it does something odd to my insides. “Lachlan.”

“Lachlan?” An incredulous laugh shakes her shoulders, her head dropping forward as she rubs the back of one hand across her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, Callum?”

“That isn’t an answer,” I point out, taking another step toward her. The way her shoulders tense tells me she knows I’m getting closer, but she isn’t looking up. Not yet. “You didn’t answer me last time, either.”

Rosalind’s confusion is obvious as she plays over every conversation we’ve had since I found her in my kitchen a few days ago. “You haven’t asked me any questions about Lachlan,” she hisses, her confusion quickly changing to ire. “You haven’t done much more than glare at me every time his name is mentioned.”

“Which is surprisingly often.”

“He’s your brother!” Throwing her hands in the air, Rosalind walks in a small circle on the other side of the blood pool. “He was the only person to show me any kindness over the last four years. And when I really fucking needed someone to be there for me, Lachlan came through.”

“When?” I demand, stepping forward again. My shoe squelches through the blood, but I ignore it.

“If you want to ask me a question, Callum, you’re going to have to learn to use your fucking words.”

“When,” I push the word through gritted teeth, pressing into her space until she’s forced to take a step back. “Did you need someone to be there for you?”

Rosalind looks at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when I was running for my life about four fucking days ago?”

“Is that the only time?”

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