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“What’s he doing?” I ask Reed as we watch his friend beat his knuckles fucking bloody.
“He’s dealing with his emotions the best way he knows how.” You can hear the brokenness as he answers. As he tucks his hands in his pockets and looks to the ground at his feet.
“By beating the shit out of a bag?” I ask sarcastically.
His head snaps up, and he eyes me with a seriousness I wasn’t expecting, causing me to shrink back some. “By expressing them in training rather than on another person. He’s protecting others by letting his wolf express his feelings through him as well. This way, they both deal, and no one else gets hurt. Unless you would rather have him go on a murder spree. Because he’d easily become the next most wanted if you’d let him.” The strained, harsh edge to his voice tells me there’s a story there. One I may not want to know about. But because I’m me, with no sense of self-preservation, unable to resist my curiosity, I ask anyways.
“Sounds like there is a story behind that statement. Care to share?”
“No.” A clipped, one-word answer is all I get. The set of his chiseled jaw tells me he’s not going to share, but I keep pushing.
“Why not? You look like someone just kicked your puppy, Reed.”
Reed places his hand on my shoulder, causing me to look up at him to meet his eyes. “It’s not my story to tell, Riley. If you want to know about Enzo’s past, you need to ask Enzo. But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t share it with you.” His expression makes me see the hurt and pain in a new light. Whatever happened in Enzo’s past is dark and full of pain. Something I can relate to. I understand the feelings of safety I found in his arms now. Kindred spirits calling to each other.
He continues before I can say anything else, “We all deal with our tough emotions differently. Wild drives and fucks the bunnies. Enzo trains and fights. Cree, well I don’t fucking know, he’s a bear. Axel works more to save others. Me, I drown in my work. And you ... well you drown in pills and alcohol. We’re all broken in some way and a bit fucked up in the head.” He turns to walk away before adding, “You’re among good company, Riley. Good. Fucking. Company.”
I stand outside the gym until Enzo drops to the floor, on his knees, breathing heavily, his head in his hands, just sitting there. I want to go to him, try to help him through whatever it is that he’s dealing with, but I’m not sure if I’d be welcome in there right now. He seems upset, with me, or with himself, or by something else altogether, I’m not sure. It isn’t until he looks up and in my direction that I see the pain he is trying to hide, and I get my answer. He needs some space and time to himself. So, with a nod and tight smile, I turn and walk the fuck away. Closing my eyes and breathing deep, I can’t explain why that simple act hurt so fucking much. Gods, I need a fucking drink and a happy pill.
Chapter 14
RILEY
I’m well aware of the large shadow following me, only I don’t fucking care. Cree can linger and lurk around corners all he wants as long he doesn’t get in my way or try to force me to go home right now because the cool night air against my overheated flesh feels fan-fucking-tastic. I look up at the star-filled night sky and take a deep, cleansing breath. My lungs expand, and I open my arms wide, feeling free for the first time in ages.
Loving the night, I intentionally take the long way around to my shitty little apartment on the wrong side of the tracks. Bad idea. Before I can make it three quarters of the way home, my hands start to shake, and I’m hit with that need for another fix. Fire licks through my insides. Sweat trickles down my face and chest.
When I reach my front door, I’m hit with a cacophony of familiar scents. “Fucking assholes. Every last one of them,” I grumble under my breath. They’ve been inside my fucking apartment.
With shaking hands, I maneuver my key into the lock. The tumblers fall into place with a resounding click that echoes inside my head. What a mess. I take in the overflowing trash can sitting in the middle of my living room floor, full of empty alcohol bottles.
I scoff at the alpha-hole show of dominating control. “They didn’t even have the decency to take the trash out. Dipshits. The lot of them.” Walking over it to the pile, I pick up one of the bottles. There’s at least a thousand dollars’ worth of empty alcohol bottles in there, and I can’t believe they just dumped it like that. I know they’re trying to make a point here, but all they managed to do is fucking piss me the hell off.
My skin flashes cold as sweat forms on my brow, and my entire body shakes. My head snaps towards the bathroom. “They better not have … I swear to the fucking gods, if they did, I will fucking kill someone.” I already knew they took the fucking bottle from my bag, so all I had was the bathroom stash. I race down the hall and into the bathroom. Lying in the sink are five empty pill bottles. “Fucking. Hell.”
My knees hit the tile floor; my hands fly to my hair. Fisting my fingers around the delicate strands, I pull as I scream my frustration and rage into the empty space. Tremors rack my body, followed closely by the bone-deep chills and nausea.
Fuck, I need something.
Crawling around the bathroom floor, I scour every corner. One must have fallen. “Damn it, please, gods, just one fucking pill.”
White hot pain sucker punches my gut. Acid scorches its way up my throat. I throw a hand over my mouth, and one-handedly crawl to the toilet. I heave into the white bowl, my stomach emptying of everything I haven’t eaten today.
Taking a deep inhale, I try to center myself to stand, but get a big whiff of campfire and honey. “Cree,” I growl, narrowing my eyes on the side of the vanity.
It takes me an hour to stumble my way to the bar, thanks to the pain searing through every muscle, bone, and vein running through my body. Switch sits on his stool at the front entrance, upon seeing me, his face pinches with worry. “Riley, are you okay? You don’t look so good, sweetheart.”
“I’m pissed off, Switch. Where the fuck is Cree?” I storm past Switch and head straight for the bar to get a fucking drink, Cree be damned. Switch follows close on my heels, the warmth from his oversized body easing some of the chill that’s settled into my bones. My hands shake as I lean over the bar, reaching for a glass and bottle of whatever is closest.
“He’s in his office,” he replies and takes the bottle of vodka from my hands. He gives me a concerned look and shakes his head before pouring me a generous amount.
“Thanks,” I say and watch as his eyes take in the full sight of me and move over my shoulder, glued on whatever or whoever is approaching. The scent of burnt wood fills the air, and I know instantly who is there. My bloodshot eyes meet his narrowed hazel gaze in the mirror that sits behind the bar.
Let him be pissed, let him watch as his pet project fails.
Clear liquid splashes over the rim of the glass as I lift it off the bar, my hand convulsing like I’ve been hit by a live wire. I wrap my other hand around the glass and guide it towards my lips. Before I can take a sip, the glass goes flying from my hands, smashing into pieces against the wall.
“No,” I cry, spinning around and coming face to chest with a grizzly I’m about to murder. How dare he? Who does he think he is? My mother?
