Page 69 of Kingston
There’s so much running through my mind, I can’t even begin to unpack it. But one thing is certain. Everything has just gotten infinitely more complicated.
THIRTY-SIX
KINGSTON
When Cannon cameto me the other day and explained that Elliot had requested a lock, I’d balked. I fully admit it. We’ve never had to install extra security because we’re a brotherhood of like-minded people. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs. But we’ve never had a woman living under this roof before. She’s not meant to be here. And yet, she is. So, what’s the right course of action? Around and around I’ve gone all week.
But after what came to pass during The Games last night, I’d figured shit out pretty quickly. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I’m beginning to think more has gone down than I’m aware of, and that pisses me right the fuck off.
I wanted so badly to come check on her after I was done interrogating the guys… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking bring myself to look at her all banged up. It’s my fault. I should have anticipated problems like this. It’s one thing for a bunch of dudes to pull pranks on each other. And even that sometimes goes too far.
With her, it’s different. I should have known. Maybe I could have prevented it, though I’m unsure how I could have known. My brain ticks back to the night of the poker game when it seemed like Dane had something he was keeping from me. I never followed up with him on it. I’m going to be pissed if I’ve missed things I should have known about.
I take the stairs two at a time and stride with purpose down the hall to her door. At least I have something to occupy my mind for the moment. Getting this lock installed for her is the only thing on my agenda today.
I’m not going to class. I wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway.
My sister—
My eyes clamp shut as an unwelcome wave of grief crashes over me. I miss the fuck out of Juliette. She’d be here at school with me, starting her junior year. If she could have held on, gotten out of our father’s house, maybe I could have helped her. Maybe I could have fixed things for her.
Raw emotion threatens to blur my eyesight, and I blink hard while my chest constricts.
I cautiously turn the knob, figuring she’s still asleep, seeing as how we didn’t get back to the house until two this morning. Archer and Cannon had said not to worry, they’d get her to bed, and had left me to deal with reprimanding the guys. I know they both saw it on my face, that questioning what happened inside that house would be all I was capable of handling. I glance down at my right hand as I flex the fingers, then make a fist. Repeat. Fuckin’ hurts. But I like that as a reminder… and I bet Alec’s ugly mug feels a lot worse.
I’ve yet to see Archer or Cannon this morning. They both have class in the next hour, so they really should be getting their asses up and moving. I stop, straining to hear movement of any sort from either of their rooms. But there’s nothing.
When I edge my way into Elliot’s room, it’s dark, like a cave. That’s probably a good thing for her head, as the doctor who spoke with us at the hospital said she’d taken a pretty good knock, but whether it was an accidental fall on her part or something more sinister remains to be seen. Taking a deep breath, I get my bearings, leaving the door open a bit so the light from the hallway comes in. I can barely see what I’m doing, but I set the lock kit and tools I’ll need to install it on the dresser. Hearing a rustling behind me, I turn and cross to the foot of Elliot’s bed.
At first, I glance down, remembering what we’d caught on video that had led to everything snowballing into one big mess—Elliot pleasuring herself on the edge of this very bed, crying out my name.
I blink a few times, my jaw tightening as I discover firsthand why there’s been zero noise coming from anyone else’s rooms. All three of them are huddled together in the middle of the bed, like they had some sort of party in here last night and crashed. At least no one is naked. Not that I know of, anyway. Elliot has on a T-shirt. Why I care, I have no fucking clue. And now—now I get to observe these three in bed together while I secure her room.
It’s fine. Whatever.
My teeth grind. I’m being ridiculous. The poor girl was probably fucking scared—or at the very least scared to be alone—after what happened. She’d been unusually quiet while they were checking her over in the ER. No sass at all. I didn’t like it. Not for a second. I’d rather have her verbally sparring with me any day of the week than have her quiet and still.
With a sigh, I return to the dresser, trying to ignore the scene behind me while squinting in the dark room at the clear-as-mud instructions. Shit, this might take longer to do than I thought. I rub my hand over my jaw and give a half-hearted glance back toward Elliot’s bed, observing how Archer and Cannon are curled around our girl. Protective bastards. I grit my teeth some more and wonder how they aren’t pulverized into powder yet.
“Kingston?” At my whispered name, I pivot, placing my hands on my hips. Elliot slowly sits up, blinking at me with tired eyes. Confusion washes over her face as she puts a hand to her head. She winces when her fingers meet the spot where she hit her head. “What are you doing?”
I clear my throat, debating what to say. In the end, all I come up with is, “Putting a lock on your door, as requested.” I eye the guys, who are only now stirring. “They should get to class. You’ll keep resting today.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “No argument. And you?”
I press my lips together and turn back to the door. “I’ll be here today,” I mumble.
“You don’t have to stay and miss class for me. I’ll be fine—” She pauses, and when I glance over to see why she’s stopped speaking, a line mars the delicate skin of her forehead. “Mostly, anyway.”
Archer sits up at the hesitation in her words, takes her chin in his hand and guides it to him so he can look into her eyes. “If your head hurts, you should take the meds the doctor prescribed. They’re in the bathroom… and I can go grab a bottle of water for you.”
“I’m okay.”
“Bullshit,” I grunt out, my eyes pinging from one member of the trio to the next. It irks me they know how she’s been since we brought her home and I’m clueless.
Cannon, always a heavy sleeper, groggily sits up and puts a hand on her back, slowly rubbing up and down. Like it belongs there. With a hard exhale, Elliot glances at me. “Okay. Maybe my head hurts a bit. I feel… groggy.” She says the word like she’s asking a question, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.
Over her head, the two of them exchange a look, and Archer whips the covers back and climbs from the bed in a pair of joggers which don’t hide the morning wood he’s rocking in his pants.
