Page 16 of Duke
“Because until you graduate, you aren’t truly one of the trusted few.” Lennon tilts her head to the side, mulling over his words. I can see her brain working through that information almost as if I could see right inside her head.
I nod. “Right. All these years of doing what we’re told, and we still haven’t earned the right to know what they’re up to. Fuck, we’ve been doing their bidding ages longer than any other brothers because of who we are.”
“Well”—Lennon’s lips twist—“maybe it’s time you started using your place as the sons of the OG Bastards to dig into them and figure out what the hell is going on.”
Bear readjusts his arm where it’s resting on the arm of the chair. His voice is clipped when he answers her, even though we all know he doesn’t mean it to be. “Where would we even start?”
With all eyes on her, Lennon murmurs, “The trail is always the dirty money.Always.”
TEN
DUKE
We’ve gotabout thirty minutes before we need to leave for Bear’s fight, and I have a feeling he needs more support than he’s acknowledged. Why I’m taking this on by myself, though, is anyone’s guess. What it comes down to is the fact that Bear’s in real trouble whether he wants to admit it or not, and it’s been this gargantuan elephant in the room that no one wants to bring up again because he’s been fast to shoot us down, to tell us not to worry. He’sfine.He’ll figure it out on his own. He sees himself as the protector of this house, especially of his friends. And showing any sign of weakness? It’s not Bear’s fuckin’ thing. Never has been. He’s the one everyone else goes to and trusts to handle things. He’s borne that burden a long time. Far too long, honestly.
So, when it’s him in trouble, I think we’re going to have to step up and show him we can carry whatever load he needs us to… figuratively as well as literally.
The hiding of how bad his injury is and whatever he’s been taking to deal with it is only part of the problem, I feel it in my goddamn gut. His dad has something to do with it. I’m almost positive that assumption is correct. This is simply another of the sick OG Bastards’ games they like to play to taunt and test their progeny. Hold something over our heads and see how far we’ll bend before we break.
In this case, it’s my assumption that Derek’s dangling the lure of whatever prescription drugs he’s gotten his hands on in front of Bear so he can continue to play football as well as fight through fucking injury. And that alone pisses me off. It also makes me wonder if Bear hasn’t been down this road before with the prior shoulder injury. Unfortunately, Derek’s motives are never clear and he’s nearly impossible to read. Sneaky bastard.
Heading upstairs to check on Bear, I pause between Warren’s and Tucker’s doorways. I frown hard, all the hair on my body standing on end. I’m on full fucking alert from last night and very glad Lennon is safe downstairs with Mason, shooting pool in the basement rec room. I have no idea what the racket is, but if I’m right, it’s coming from up ahead of me. Frommyroom. And I can see from here, my fucking door is standing wide open.
The sound of things being tossed around gets louder the closer I get. Who the hell is ransacking my room?The fuck.After a particularly loud noise, I hurry quietly forward and duck into the room, my eyes scanning before they dart to the closed door of the bathroom. I’m going to catch whoever it is in the fucking act and see what they’re after. I can’t believe there’s someone mucking around in my stuff, but I never would have dreamed anyone would have the fucking balls to enter our home and hold Lennon at knife point either. Apparently, we aren’t done with asshole fuckery. My body jerks as something strikes either the counter or the tile floor, can’t quite tell.Fuck. This is bullshit.I charge across my room, steam practically pouring from my ears. I whip open the door, an enraged grimace plastered across my lips.
At the sight before me, I stop in my tracks, blinking in shock and grasp either side of the doorframe to steady myself. My brow furrows as I watch Bear rifle through one thing after another in my medicine cabinet. He’s pulled out half the contents—from my shaving cream to pill bottles to sticks of deodorant. He’s clearly in the zone, urgently looking for something specific, because he isn’t yet aware I’m observing him. A heavy breath gusts from him, and he mumbles to himself, looking more carefully at a couple prescription bottles that had probably been hiding in the back of the cabinet for a while. If I remember correctly, what he’s looking at are the antibiotics from a nasty sinus infection I had over the summer. I don’t even know why I brought them with me. It’s not like they’re the shit that will knock you out or make you loopy… and they’re not the sort of painkillers that might help Bear make it through fight night. Because that’s what this is about. He’s looking for something to dull the pain.
Looking more carefully at my friend, he’s got his right arm pinned to his side, and is only using that hand to hold things. He’s not moving the arm itself at all from elbow to shoulder.
“Bear,” I murmur, “what the fuck.” I don’t even pose it as a question because I know. I definitely know what the fuck is going on here. And I fucking hate it for him that he’s resorted to going through my stuff.
He freezes in place, staring into my mirror at his reflection. “I—” But he doesn’t finish, shaking his head and fixing his gaze on the sink as if the answer to what he’s up to is hiding somewhere in the basin.
“What’s going on?” I ask as if I hadn’t already deduced that he’s been in a constant flux between being in pain, medicated and doped up, and in withdrawal—all depending on what he’s been able to get his hands on.Jesus Christ.I study his profile. His usual easygoing demeanor has been replaced by a drawn face and a jaw held so tight, he looks ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He’s shaky and spiraling fast. He didn’t seem that bad earlier, but fuck. Who knows if mine is the first room he’s gone through. Who knows if he found something to stave off the pain after he told us he was out last night.
Seeing him like this, irrationally digging through my cabinet makes me hurt for him. It’s an all-time low. This is worse than he was post-surgery. Then again… he probably had all the meds he needed. And I’m sure daddy dearest kept supplying him as long as he needed. My eyes narrow as I run a hand through my hair. I hate jumping to conclusions, but… is this worse than we thought?
Bear drops his head back on his shoulders, blindly staring at the ceiling without saying a word.
I give him a few seconds, then cross to him, stopping about a foot away. “It’s bad, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Studying the set of his jaw, I know what the answer to my next question will be, but I ask anyway. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grits out, the words tearing unevenly from his throat. Each of his inhales are ragged, the exhales shaky as hell.
“Yeah well, I’m afraid the not-talking-about-it ship sailed the minute I found you in my bathroom going through my shit.” I raise my brows when he finally turns his head to look at me.
His eyes are orbs of hollowed-out pain and misery. “So fucking what?” he practically snarls.
I huff out a short, disturbed laugh, feeling for him, but not willing to let this go. Not this time. I hold my hands up in front of me, palms out. “This is the pain talking. And the lack of meds to deal with it because you haven’t allowed yourself a break. Haven’t told anyone.” I grit my teeth but lower my voice. “What you’re experiencing without the meds is withdrawal, Bear. I think you know that. Wewillbe having a discussion—whether you like it or not doesn’t really matter to me. Not when it’s affecting all of us.”
“I fucking said I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouts, then whirls around, slamming his fist into the wall behind him, surprisingly using the injured arm. He stops and stares at the hole he’s made in the wall, chest heaving, before he braces the forearm of his uninjured arm over the hole. Steadily staring at it, his broad back expands with every great gust of air he drags in.
I spin on my heel, letting my feet carry me from my room. I’m about to head downstairs to find Mason, but I catch a flash of him through his open door. He’s out on his balcony. Lennon is also there. They must have come upstairs right after I did. Mason spots me through the glass panes in the door and beckons me to them with one hand, a frown forming on his face in response to the grim set of mine. I’m still a few paces from the door when he throws it open, running his hand through the dark hair that had fallen over one eye. “What fucking chaos is hitting the fan now?”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “It’s Bear.” I look from Mason to Lennon. “I know this is a fuckin’ long shot and wish there were another way handle this, but he’s in real trouble with the fight tonight. Do either of you have any pain killers he can take? You know, something more than Tylenol or Motrin?”
