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And Lyra had been thinking of doing exactly that.
A cargo van she’d never seen before pulled up to the curb, squealing its tires at the last minute, which made the whole thing rock. A thunderous roar filled the air as the motorcycles came up behind and around it.
“There’s Ben,” Mom said, and her arm tightened around Lyra. “Oh! And Reed! Oh thankgod!”
Cooper ran around the front of the van and yanked the passenger door open—and there was Zach, reclined almost all the way back in the passenger seat. Cooper leaned in and hooked Zach’s arm over his neck
Lyra shrugged out of her mother’s hold and hurried to the doors, stepping back at the last minute to let the medical professionals push the gurney through. Then she followed right behind.
Cooper was almost carrying Zach—and he did pick him up to lay him on the gurney. Lyra got to his side as the nurses were strapping him in and the doctor was shouting questions the others were trying to answer.
Lyra didn’t care about any of that. She only cared about Zach.
He was conscious, barely, but ohgod, he was white as a sheet. He was shirtless, and his skin was so pale his ink looked like it had been drawn on him with Sharpie. A wrapping around his belly, made of Ace bandages and—were those maxi-pads?—was soaked solid red with blood.
She grabbed his hand—it was cold!—and his head flopped over to the side she was on. He smiled a little. “Hey, beautiful. I’m okay.” His voice was soft and far away, like he was halfway down the tunnel to the light.
“You’re not okay. You got shot!”
“Yeah. Oops.”
Somebody pulled Lyra back, breaking their connection, and suddenly the gurney was moving to the doors. The doctor was calling out orders as they went.
Lyra chased after it, all the way across the waiting room, until she was stopped at the double doors by the nurse with the attitude.
“Wait out here. We’ll send word out when we have it.” Then she closed the doors and left Lyra standing there alone.
“It’s a through and through, critter.” Reed had come up to stand at her side; he might have been the one who’d pulled her away from Zach. “He’s gonna be okay, just needs some stitches, a refill, and the good drugs.”
She turned to look up at her big brother. With the exception of a fairly significant amount of grime and sweat, and some weary shadows under his eyes, he seemed perfectly normal and entirely healthy. She was thoroughly relieved that it was true. Pop and Reed were whole, and she was glad.
But all the stress and fear and worry she’d been drowning in since yesterday boiled over like a pot left on the stove, and she slammed her hands to his chest and found all her words. “What the fuckhappened?! What did youdo?! Why didn’t you get him helpthere?!”
Looking sad and guilty, Reed stood and let her hit him, but then there were familiar hands on her arms, and she was drawn backward into her father’s embrace. “Easy, baby bear. It’s not Reed you’re mad at, so stop knockin’ him around. Come sit, we’ll talk.”
She turned to drop her head on her father’s chest. The age-old comfort of that hold, the warmth of her father’s body, the scent of him, the rhythm of his breath, swaddled her suddenly, and she couldn’t be strong another second. She sagged into his embrace and burst into tears.
He held her snugly and let her cry. When her tears were finally spent and she looked up, he’d walked her to the seating area, where everybody else was waiting. She hadn’t noticed moving.
Pop put her in a seat, and Reed took a chair at her side. Pop sat on her other side. Then Mom sat beside Pop.
Cooper pulled a chair over and dropped it down in front of her. Straddling it backward, he sat and faced her. He looked exhausted and angry, but his voice was sharp and clear when he announced, “I’ll answer the questions I can. Okay?”
Mom asked the first question, and she sounded more furious than Lyra had ever heard. The flouncy hippie chick had given way to a drill sergeant. “What the fuck were you all up to that that boy got shot—and another gotkilled! I saw you pull him out of the back of the van.”
Cooper shot a dangerous look at Mom. “We lost a brother, so watch your tone. Our business is not your business—and I’ve never laid an eye on you, lady, so—”
“She’s our mom,” Reed supplied.
“Oh. Okay.” His tone evened out. “Nice to meet you, Mom. I’m not answering that question.”
Mom turned to Pop. “Ben? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Pop sighed with the weight of the world. “It’s not your business, Melly. So let it go.”
“You dragged our children into this mess! Another fucking MC!”
“Our children are grown-up adults. I don’t drag them nowhere. They go where they want.”
