Page 22 of Love Thy Brother
“Do I?”
Saint drummed his fingers on the picnic table. “You should go and be with him long enough to find out.”
“Be with him? Brother, I love you, but you’re out of your fucking mind. There’s nobeing withRiver. Even without the landmine I seem to set off every time we’re in the same room, royal decree, remember?”
Saint tilted his head, his green eyes glowing like an unearthly, all-seeing lizard. Any other day, I’d have hollered across the yard for Cam, taking him apart for devoting himself to two reptilian motherfuckers. But there was something about Saint these days. He’d always been otherworldly, but his brush with death had cemented it more than ever. His preternatural stare had a purpose, even if I had not a scooby what the fuck it was.
His characteristic intensity compelled me to sit up. To ignore the strain in my aching body and give him more brainpower than I had left. “Are you trying to tell me Cam’s changed his mind?”
Saint shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t wait for something literal to be different.”
Okay. “Yeah well, like Iliterallyjust told Em, none of that fucking matters anymore.”
Saint was less affected by my pessimism. He opened his hand, revealing a set of keys. Déjà vu hit me, though I couldn’t say why. “The safehouse in Porth Luck,” he clarified when I only managed a gormless stare. “Stay there a bit. Watch River. Guard him. Cam knows you can do that better than anyone. He won’t care about anything else for a while.”
“It’s not Cam I’m worried about. You heard Riv. What he’ll do if we push too hard. He meant that shit, bro.”
“Doesn’t mean he’d do it.”
“You think he won’t?”
Saint’s response was hard to gauge. Not a nod. Not a shrug. Something in between I couldn’t decipher.
He pressed the keys into my hand.
They were warm from his body heat. Or maybe I was just cold. Regardless, I dropped them on the table. “I can’t ride, man. My head’s fucked. Even if I agree to your whacky plan, it’ll have to wait.”
“Or you could drive. Cam’s car is here.”
“You really want to get rid of me, eh?”
Saint gave me a sharp look, as offended as he ever was by anything, but he really had run out of words now. And I didn’t need them. Or the hug he wouldn’t give me. With this brother, it was always the little things.
He wandered off to find Cam’s car keys. After a crazy morning, I was finally alone, and I felt it. The isolation. That low ache of being fucking lonely. It was usually a moment where I’d seek out Nash. Find comfort in winding him up. Now, all I had was a solitary shuffle upstairs to gather my shit from Mateo’s neglected bedroom.
Man, I was sore. Lord Nashie’s fists were banned under the Geneva Convention. Rubbing my ribs, I sat on the edge of Mateo’s bed. The one he hadn’t slept in for more than a year. I had a bag around here somewhere. Some weed. A bunch of clothes that probably needed washing. It crossed my mind to go home before I put Saint’s ridiculous plan into action, but I didn’t feel like gracing my empty house with my fabulous presence.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Saint filled the doorway and tossed me a second set of keys.
He left again without comment, and I took it as permission to get the fuck out of here.
I stood, scooping my bag from the floor.
You need food. There’ll be fuck all at the safehouse.Couldn’t see me being hungry anytime soon, but I was a professional. Preparedness was my jam.
I shouldered my bag and made tracks. Cam’s SUV was parked outside the sales reception, close to Orla’s car. I felt her gaze on me as I threw my bag in the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. Heard her boots on the tiled floor get louder, then stop.
She didn’t come to me. Didn’t rip the car door open and tear me a new arsehole. And from Orla, my sister in everything but blood, her silence hurt.
Get gone.
I put the automatic wanker-mobile intodrive.
Embry appeared at my window. He passed me a Tesco bag of groceries and a bottle of Frankincense oil. “To help you breathe.”
Weird little fucker. “I’m breathing, Em.”
