Page 18 of Love Thy Brother
It was unfair. I knew it was. But he’d never told me why he left. The next time I’d seen him, he’d been writhing in agony on a hospital bed, and the weariness in his timeless face now was too close to that for comfort.
I didn’t want to care. It cut deep that I did, and the fact that he wasn’t even looking at me anymore hurt most of all.
It almost passed me by that Rubi was bracing himself for the raw fury of Nash McGovern bearing down on him.
5
RUBI
In the ominous seconds it took Nash to compute what he’d heard, River escaped me, storming to his bike and roaring away.
He ripped another piece of my heart from my chest, but there was a bigger incoming storm behind me.
I turned to face my brother-in-arms, prepared for his anger, but not the violent betrayal fucking up his face.
“You were banging him all along?”
“What? No—”
Nash flew at me, big fists flying.
And here was the thing about Nash McGovern. He was the nicest, sweetest, fairest bloke on the planet, but when he flipped?
Fuck me, his softest punch was deadly.
His brutal haymaker?
Fucking lethal, and I couldn’t take that hit right now. I’d crumble and I wouldn’t get up.
Defence mode kicked in. I conceded a vicious fist to my face, then raised my arms to protect my battered skull, letting the hits rain down on my ribs. Taking that pain, cos I fucking deserved it. Floating in it, almost. Anything to shield me from the omnishambles this day had become.
The wind left my lungs.
Nash barrelled me over a picnic table, and I let that happen too, steeling myself for the concrete on the other side.
But it never came.
Strong arms caught me.
Brothers’ arms.
And more of them appeared in a stampede of boots on tarmac.
Cam and Saint wrestled Nash away.
Folk held me up, steadying me until I wrenched myself from him and spat a wad of blood on the ground.
Good lad that he was, Folksie gave me space. Didn’t ask why Nash had flown at me like a crazed gorilla, or why I’d let him. Clever boy, that one. Made me wonder how he’d ended up a Crow and not a King in the first place.
Damn, my head was all over the show.
I planted a hand on the picnic table, searching for equilibrium. Searching forbreath, because holy buggery, Nash had smashed it out of me.
“Sit down,” Folk murmured.
I ignored him, closing my eyes, swallowing more blood.
Didn’t open them again until footsteps I’d recognise on my death bed clomped up on us.
