Page 6 of The Hate We Breathe
“What are we going to do about the rest of it, though?” Gio demands. “Even if we put that to the side, Lex is right. If Juliet’s mom is responsible for Morpheus’ death then there’s a lot of shit we haven’t figured out yet.”
“Such as the ‘why’,” Lex states.
“Why?” Gio snaps to Lex. “Why the fuck does that matter?”
Lex glares back at him. “It matters, dipshit, because if we can figure out if it was her then the damn police can too—how do you think it’ll affect Juliet to have both of her parents in jail.”
“You don’t even know if it was Mrs. Donovan in the first place,” Gio bites back. “That’s your assumption—Morpheus was a rich prick, surely he’s got other enemies too.”
The two of them devolve into a pair of squabbling jackasses, sniping and biting at each other as my mind reels with various plans of action and the information cascading into my head.
Fuck.We’re not the damn cops. The only thing Ishouldbe concerned with is my boys, Juliet, and getting the fuck out of Silverwood. Irritation gnaws an ugly hole in my gut. Viks’ gaze is still hovering over me like he’s waiting for me to step up and make the right move, but I don’t know what that is.
The dull throb of a migraine begins to tighten in a band around my head. I press the flat of both palms to my temples as if that will assuage the ache. It doesn’t. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck!
Then, it hits me. The answer to our immediate needs. It’s a simple plan, one that will at least give us time to figure out the rest.
I release a breath and slowly lower my arms back to my sides. “Shut up!” I bark out the command and both Gio and Lex fall silent. The corner of Viks’ lips twitches.Asshole.But a useful one, at least.
My attention resettles on the men I’d give my life for. Whether they realize it or not, we’re on a countdown now and we need to prepare for our exit sooner rather than later, and that means clearing up this mess in a way that leaves all of us free and clear—most importantly, Juliet.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I begin, praying to the universe that I’m making the right call.
3
JULIET
Iwake up feeling hungover. My head pounds, but my body is sore in the most delicious of places. A groan makes its way up my throat as I stretch lazily against the black satin sheets that cover me.
When I bump into a hard, warm male body on one side, I still in surprise. Opening my eyes, I peer down at the thick arm wrapped around my waist that I hadn’t noticed before now and then to the slightly tanner hand next to my side. I’m surrounded by not one, but two bodies. Gio and Lex.
Their heat is almost overwhelming, but thankfully I’m not dressed in the gown I’d been in last night for the masquerade. One of the guys must have changed me while I was out because now I’m wearing a pair of black board shorts that are loose around my waist and an overly large t-shirt that smells like cinnamon and spice. Sans bra or underwear, of course. I roll my eyes. Surprise, surprise. I’m not even bothered anymore by the idea of Lex or one of the others seeing me passed out and naked. It’s not like they haven’t already seen all of me.
Blinking away the crud in my eyes, I gently reach down and lift Lex’s arm off my waist. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, I scoot down between the two male bodies, wormingmy way to the end of the mattress under the sheet until my legs fall over the side of the bed and hit the floor. Gio grumbles and rolls closer to Lex, hand patting out against the mattress as he slumbers on.
For a moment, I just stand there, watching the two of them. Then, awareness of the third man in the room sweeps over me. I turn towards the doorway as Nolan arches a brow at me and holds out a steaming mug of what smells like nirvana.
“Come on,” he whispers. “We can talk in the living room while we let them sleep a bit longer.”
Unable to resist the pull of his offering, I take the mug and carefully lift it to my lips. To my surprise, it’s not coffee—but hot chocolate. I shiver in pleasure and swallow down several mouthfuls before following him out into the hall and shutting the door behind me. Nolan strides ahead into Lex’s small living room area and takes a seat on the couch. A bit slower, I trail him and take up residence on the loveseat. Pulling my legs up to sit crisscross, I cup my mug of hot cocoa and let the warmth invade my fingers.
“How are you feeling?” Nolan asks as I lift the steaming liquid to my mouth again and take a sip.
I meet his eyes, my fingers clenching around the porcelain. “Tired,” I admit, and then, upon more consideration, I add, “sore.”
His lips twitch as he raises his own mug to his mouth. When he lowers it again, he responds. “I’m not surprised. You’ve been through a lot the last few weeks. Even if you didn’t realize it, you must’ve been tense. Now, you’re in a safe place. Your body is, no doubt, ready to relax.”
He can say that again. I sigh and slump into the cushions at my back. “What happens now?” I ask, not bothering to tell him that he’s right about his assumptions.
Nolan’s brows lower and his expression hardens. “Are you sure you’re ready to talk about it yet?” he asks in lieu of an answer. “You know it’s okay to take some time.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished talking. “Not a chance,” I say. “Putting it off now will only make me want to keep doing that. I want everything figured out and I want to go back to normal, Nolan.” I grimace and my hold on the mug in my hand tightens until my fingers ache and the skin over my knuckles goes bone white. “I want a fucking life again,” I admit.
Nolan is quiet for a moment, then he sets his mug down on the coffee table and stands up from the couch. I tilt my head back, watching him as he moves towards me and then slowly lowers himself before me, going to his knees. Months ago, before realizing how dedicated this man could be, before realizing that he would come for me when no one else would, I would have laughed at the position he puts himself in. Now, though, all I do is stare back at him and wait.
Gently, with firm fingers, he pries the cup from my grasp, turns, and sets it alongside his own. Then, he faces me once more and reaches for my hands.
“We will figure this out.” His words aren’t said casually, they’re a promise, an oath. “You’re not alone, Jules.” Nolan bends his head, the crop of sandy-colored hair shifting with the movement as he presses a close-mouthed kiss to my cold knuckles. When he looks back at me again, I’m struck by a sudden urge to cry. “You’ll never be alone again.”
