Page 56 of Hot Doggin'
The text goes out to all the Bitches. Anyone who hears it will respond immediately.
Seconds later, West replies.
We’re on our way.
Followed by Riggs.
We’re ten minutes out.
Nash responds with,
Incoming ASAP.
One by one, they all check in. Jax, Mandy, even Pharo.
Tears burn my eyes as I return to the kitchen. What would I do without my brothers? There’s no greater feeling of relief and comfort than knowing they're just a phone call away and there’s always someone listening on the other end of the line. That on your worst day, you’re never alone. That's what it means to be a Bitch.
McCormick has given up on trying to fit inside of the cabinet. He’s hunkered down in front of it, with his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and he’s rocking himself back-and-forth. I can’t make out the words he’s muttering. Probably talking to his buddy Danny.
I wish I could save him from himself. Save him from his memories and his trauma. He thinks we live a charmed life because our injuries aren’t life-threatening and afford us an easier life. He’s said so many times, but there’s nothing charmed about watching your best friend suffer. His pain is tearing me apart.
All I can do is wait and watch until the cavalry arrives.
He whips his bald head in my direction. His eyes are no longer vacant, just sad. Sad and tired.
“Stiles? That you?”
“Yeah, Mac, it’s me. You okay?”
“I will be.”
Quickly, I unlock the door and leave it open a crack before rushing back to his side. I slide down the fridge again. “Come here, babe. Come sit with me.”
He scoots toward me and I pull him between my legs, with his back against my chest. He loves when I drag my fingers through his hair, but now that it’s gone, I rub his prickly scalp lightly with my fingertips.
“I’m glad you’re here.” His gruff voice sounds broken, like he swallowed glass, and he clears his throat.
“Me too. You thought I was Danny.” I’m not gonna tell him he had his arms around my neck, choking me out. He would never forgive himself for trying to hurt me. I don’t even think he was trying to, I think he was trying to prevent Danny from hurting himself. The last thing I’m going to do is put that on his conscience.
“You know, thinking back to that day, I heard him do it. I wasn’t with him when it happened, but I heard it. I was in my hospital bed and he was down the hall in the bathroom. When my sergeant came in and told me what happened, I was shocked and devastated, but when I thought back on it, I remember hearing the echo of the gunshot. I assumed somebody had dropped something in the hallway, but it was him. I heard the bullet.”
My tears fall harder and my stomach churns sickeningly. That kind of pain can never be healed. You can’t ever forget the sound of the bullet, taking your best friend’s life, just steps away from your room. But you can’t reach him. You can’t savehim. You can’t turn back time and erase the consequences of his actions.
“I keep seeing his bloody face in my mind, even though I never actually saw it. And I keep seeing that little boy’s head roll at my feet. His bright, white teeth and dark eyes staring up at me. Staring right through me. Judging me because I didn’t save him.”
“He’s not,” I insist, but the words come out unintelligible. I clear my throat and try again. “He’s not judging you.”
“Begging me, then.”
“Mac, you can’t change his fate. He was destined to live a short life. Don’t even ask me to get into the why’s, because if there are any, I don’t fucking know what they are. That’s not my job. That belongs to God. All I know is that it changed you and made you into the man you were meant to be. That trauma brought you to BALLS. That's where we met and my life is better for knowing you. You’ve touched so many lives and changed them for the better. That day set you on the path to the rest of your life. It’s not an easy path, but no one ever promised you it would be.”
“You’re right. You’re always right.” He breathes out a deep sigh and his body relaxes into mine. His familiar scent tickles my nose. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t have any fucking answers. But with him in my arms—his scent, his warmth, his solid weight—everything just makes sense.
All of a sudden, we’re not alone, and the mask of serenity is cracked with the arrival of West and Brandt, Brewer and Nash, quickly followed by Mandy, Rhett, and Riggs. I know Jax and Pharo are out in the hall because I can hear them arguing.
They slip through the door quietly, taking in the war zone that is our kitchen. I give a thumbs up that Mac doesn’t see to let them know he’s back with us in the present, and that he’s alright.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” West teases, taking a seat beside me on the floor.
