Page 168 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“How many times have you done this?” he asks, without missing a beat. “A hundred? A thousand? Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”

“It’s called a phobia for a reason, you condescending?—”

“Here we are!” Tracy throws out her arms like she’s announcing the new wing that’s been added.“And it looks like your seat is still open.”

“Royalty around here, huh?” Knox says. I have no idea who he’s referring to. It could literally be either of us.

Surprisingly, my palms aren’t as sweaty as they normally are by this stage. Probably because I’ve been low-key dying of shame at Knox’s arrogance since we stepped inside the clinic. See, this never happens with Silas. He’s grim but supportive. I guess because he’s got his own reasons to dislike coming to this place so he knows the sooner I get done, the sooner we can leave.

That’s how the two of us met three years ago. His sister, Letty, was in the cancer ward when I was trying to give a bone marrow transplant.

Tryingbeing the operative word. Because of course the only person in the whole fucking world who was a perfect HLA match for my brother Trevyn is deathly afraid of doctors, hospitals,andneedles. Life is a dick like that.

I ran into Silas—literally—when I was trying to escape the male nurse they’d sent after me when I freaked out. See, thing is, I don’t pass out when I see needles…Ifight. And then I run.

If Silas hadn’t stopped me, I’d have run out of there and never come back. Trevyn could have died. But Silas was sopissed off that I was causing a ruckus in the same ward where his sister was fighting for her life, he came after me.

I think the orderly was glad he didn’t try and tackle me. Because fuck, IhurtSilas that day. He gave as good as he got, though. By the time they dragged us apart, we both had bleeding noses and split lips.

We got to talking while the nurses patched us up. He told me about Letty and I told him about my brother, Trevyn. He called me a fucking pussy and said if he could chop off a limb to save his sister’s life, he would do it four times over. I told him I was scared of needles, and he said he’d try and find me a tampon. Then he grabbed my arm and walked me into the transfusion room, not letting go until the nurse said we were done.

There was a possibility Trevyn’s body would reject my bone marrow, or that he’d succumb to transfusion-related complications.

He didn’t.

My marrow saved his life. With his severe case of Thalassemia, he still needs regular blood transfusions though. I donate blood for him every two months, because I know it’s a perfect match.

I just wish it didn’t have to involve fucking needles.

As soon as the nurse is done setting me up, she leaves Knox and me alone. It’s sunny in this room, and quiet despite the nine other people here giving blood or receiving chemotherapy.

That’s what always gets me. Thequiet. Silas and I discuss the latest playoffs, or I let him prattle on about whatever school assignment he’s fired up about at the time. He’s got so much schoolwork going on at any one time, I’m not surprised he’s a zombie the rest of the time.

But Knox is silent. He’s too busy scanning the room to talk. Probably calculating the cost per square inch of the equipment, furniture, and decor.

“What’s Silas doing?” I ask, desperate to take my racing mind off the fact that I have a needle jammed in my flesh.

“Visiting a friend of ours,” Knox says, giving me a mysterious smile I instantly want to punch off his smirking face.

“We don’t have friends.” Well, that’s not entirely true. But Knox wouldn’t call them friends, that’s for sure. He’d probably use a word like acquaintances or some shit.

Knox narrows his eyes at me, sitting closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice. “Snitches get stitches.”

I stare at him, so shocked that for a moment I even forget there’s a fucking needle in my arm.

“She did it,” I murmur. “Even after we warned her…she still did it.”

“You just keep pumping that blood,” Knox says grimly. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Knox…” Fuck I don’t even know how to put this. Knox tends toobsessover things. Sometimes they work themselves out…but I have a feeling this won’t be the case with Nim. “I don’t want us doing something we’ll regret.”

“I know.” Knox glances down and grabs my hand, squeezing me hard enough to set my jaw. “That’s why I’m one the one holding your motherfucking hand, not Silas.”

Knox’s black eyes dart up, fixating on me.

Several times since Lorenzo’s death, I’ve wondered how we let things get so far. We made the decision one night after we’d all been drinking, that much I remember. But in the morning, once our hangovers had faded away, we still wanted Lorenzo dead. We tried to talk ourselves out of it, but Knox’s obsession had grown on us. We toyed with an idea, which quickly transformed into a solid plan that none of us could deny was fuckingperfect.

Then Nim arrived.

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