Page 72 of Making Choices

“He’s still lookin’ for Toker.”

“Oh.” Pushing away from him, I try to bite back the whimper that builds in my throat as I discover that every inch of my body is in agony. “I should get up. At least, show my face so they know I’m still alive.”

Slash’s arms tighten around me, preventing me from moving. “Don’t be a hero. Let me—us—take care of you.”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” I sob. Hiding my face in his neck, I sniff to stem the flow, but I can’t beat back the tears that refuse to stop falling. “Everything hurts.”

“That’s to be expected,” Sander announces. The mattress dips behind me and my twin brother engulfs me in his embrace. With the warmth of his body heating my back, the familiarity of his cologne settles some of the despair that’s squeezing my chest. “Mumma C’s downstairs with Charlie. I’ve sent most of everyone else home. Told them to come back tomorrow.” There’s a bite in his next remark, “Why don’t you head down there and organise shit with them?”

“She needs me,” Slash objects, even as he gently moves out from underneath me.

Steel infuses my twin’s voice when he says, “I’ve got her.”

I keep my eyes screwed shut and my face buried in Slash’s pillow while he opens and closes drawers. When the sounds of his footsteps padding across the carpet disappears and silence dawns, it seems to weigh a tonne. It pins me down. Holds me hostage to a reality I’d rather ignore. I shift awkwardly, turning slowly to face Sander, biting back pained hisses with each movement. Our identical gazes meet, and even though I burn with the need to fill the oppressive quiet, I can’t find the right words to strip the anguish from my brother’s angular face.

“Wish I could resurrect the motherfucker so I can kill him myself.”

My bottom lip trembles. “Wish I could kill him again.”

“If you cry, I’m gonna cry,” Sander tells me. He presses his fingers to my chin to still the uncontrollable wobble. “Feel like a fuckin’ pussy for even sayin’ that, but it’s true.”

“What happened to your head?” Rather than address his open vulnerability, I tilt my chin in the direction of the nasty bruise that’s half-hidden in his hairline. “Looks painful.”

“Fell down.” After accepting my gaze scanning his face for a long moment, he adds. “I’m not high. Haven’t been high. Won’t get high. Wouldn’t do that to you right now.”

“Or ever?”

Sander chuckles darkly. “I’m an addict, little sis. Can’t promise you that.”

“Well, I’m a cutter, so I get where you’re coming from.”

“So you’re finally admittin’ you’re a pair of losers?” Directing my attention to the doorway to Slash’s bedroom, I shake my head when I spy our youngest brother, Nathaniel, striding toward the end of the bed with a big grin on his face. “Always knew I was the last hope for the Mayberrys.”

“Keep dreaming,” Sander retorts with a chuckle. His arms flex around me as he declares, “It was all downhill for the Mayberrys after we were born. Ya can’t better perfection.”

“Perfection smerfection,” Nate scoffs. He perches on the mattress in front of me. “Mum kept going ‘til she had me for a reason.”

“Listen to this bullshit, Cherub. You’ve gotta tell this idiot how wrong he is.”

Despite the dark cloud that’s hovering over my head, my mood lifts a little in the wake of my brothers’ bantering. When I shift so I can see Nate properly, the tears that I’ve been trying to hold at bay for Sander break free. Nate’s not alone. Wyatt and Nadia are crowded in the doorway to the bedroom behind him.

Wyatt looks everywhere but at me as he asks, “Is there any room for the rest of us in that bed or are we arm wrestlin’ Sander for turns?”

After wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I pat the side of the massive bed that Slash abandoned. “No wrestling needed… there’s lots of space.”

My brothers and my best friend converge on the bed, only for Sander to hold a hand up to stop them. “Before we get too comfy, we should give Slash his bedroom back.”

“He said she can stay up here if she wants to,” Nadia tells my twin. She slides gingerly into the bed and takes hold of my left hand. After threading her fingers through mine, she leans a tiny amount of her weight on me, then moves so she can look me right in the eyes. “I’m staying here for as long as you need me.”

A memory from last night pops into my head. “But Bear’s a rat… won’t you need to deal with that?”

Next to me, Sander takes a sharp breath. I ignore him to keep my focus on Nadia. “He’s gone, Anna. Ransacked the house, busted up my shit, and took his. There’s nothing but a giant fucking mess left to deal with… and that can wait until you’re better.”

“Maybe the prospects can help?”

“It’s all hands on deck lookin’ for Toker,” she tells me. Sympathy clouds her gaze as she continues. “With Brutus MIA and your arsehole—” Sander coughs, and there’s alarm in his eyes that he tamps down when I glance his way. My best friend clams up immediately, then she backpedals. “What I mean is that my stuff can wait.”

“Where’s Dad?” I direct my question to Nate. He’s the most likely one to give me the answers I want. “And which arsehole of mine are you trying not to tell me about?”

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