Page 75 of Ruling Scar
I’m not sure which of us is more taken aback.
“Oh.” His brow lifts when he realizes I’m only in a giant T-shirt. “Hey, Lennie.”
I fix the shirt that keeps slipping off my shoulder as I stare at Elijah, who he holds upright.
“I’m just going to. . .” Roma takes a step, but Elijah tries to pick himself up.
I gasp. “What the fuck happened?”
Caked blood mars his face and he trips, tumbling toward the bed.
Roma’s shirt is crooked, but he’s nowhere near as disheveled. Running a hand through his dark hair, he takes another step into the room.
“Out,” Elijah growls. Anger simmers off him in waves. His gray eyes are steel in the dark light but he motions for Roma to leave.
“What happened?” I ask Roma.
He opens his mouth to answer, but Elijah barks at him again. “I said get out, Roman!”
Roma drops his hands to his side, shooting me an apologetic look. “It’s good to see you again, Lennie.”
Elijah throws a hand up like he’s trying to block me from his younger brother. I slap it away, annoyed.
“I’m just going to go,” Roma whispers, backing away. He closes the bedroom door behind him.
“What the fuck?” I whisper. Elijah’s face looks even worse up close.
He’s too moody for words. He stands up, struggling with his belt and he’s still got his shoes on.
I’m upset with myself for asking, “Do you need help?”
“You’re not wearing pants.” His words slur. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
“Do what? Wait around worried for you in the middle of the night?”
“Never go pant less in front of my brother again.”
“Go sleep on the fucking couch,” I tell him.
His brow furrows, another incoherent noise catching in his throat.
I don’t care about anything anymore.
I dive into bed, wrapping myself in the covers. Sleep doesn’t come, but I feign it, while Elijah shrugs out of his clothes. The blankets move when he slides under the sheets and I hold on tight to my portion. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks now is the time for cuddling.
“What happened?” My words are muffled by the blankets.
He sighs and I worry if he should be sleeping. Don’t they say not to sleep if you have a concussion? What if he has one?
“’Twas just a slight argument,” he says in a terrible British accent.
“With who?”
He doesn’t reply but I think I have a clue. The same guy who won’t go away.
There’s another heavy sigh and Elijah’s breath evens out. Albert senses I’m still awake and walks up to the bed, licking my fingers. He settles down on the floor next to me because he understands loyalty.
In total, I doze off and on for two hours and I get up before my alarm goes off.
