Page 59 of Fangs
Behind him, Sam hovered, his jaw tight. Sable stood on the other side, watching with sharp eyes. I realized I was clutching my shirt closed with both hands, but I couldn’t remember doing it. Had I pushed Sable away? My body shook.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Griz urged, and Ididtry, but my lungs refused to work.
“She’s going to pass out,” I heard Sable say as though he was speaking in a tunnel. “Get the?—”
“—all the fuckin’ stupid things?—”
“Raven.”
“Don’t you ‘Raven’ me, Griz. When are you gonna learn to leave well enough alone?”
I pried my eyes open, confused.
Raven and Griz were standing beside my bed. Griz had his arms crossed, face impassive. Raven stood with her back to me, and I couldn’t see her expression, but from her violent arm gestures, I could tell she was pissed.
“You wanna go stomp on some anthills while you’re at it? Kick some hornet nests? Gods, of all the?—”
“Hey,” Griz interrupted Raven mid-rant when he noticed me.
Raven whirled, scanning me with sharp, angry eyes.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“We’re surrounded by a bunch of fuckin’ idiots, is what happened,” Raven snapped, but she stomped over to the bed to tuck the blanket more securely around me.
“You panicked when Sable was examining the brand,” Griz answered, frowning. “You passed out.”
I winced, the memory smacking me across the face, and Raven muttered something about snakes and grass.
Griz sucked in a breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “I gotta take care of some stuff. I’ll be back later, ok?”
I nodded. After Griz left, Raven stood beside the bed, glaring at me for a few breaths.
“You’re ok?” I asked, bracing myself.
“What?” she snapped.
“I saw you get shot.” My voice wobbled.
She stared at me, but to my shock, she simply sighed and sat on the bed beside me. “I’m alright, Boney. You healed all of us.”
“And Jax?” I wasn’t sure why I kept asking the same question. It’s not like I thought they were lying to me.
“He’s ok, too.”
I let out a shaky breath and glanced down at the shirt I wore. “Whose shirt is this?”
“It was one of Trey’s.”
Oh.
I pressed my sleeve-covered hands against my nose without thinking, but the fabric didn’t smell like him. His scent was gone, just like him.
Godsdamnit, I did not want to fucking cry again.
“There’s a whole drawer of his clothes at the bunkhouse,” Raven said, her voice slightly strained, “if you ever want to go through it.”
“I haven’t even been able to open his pack,” I mumbled, surprising myself.
