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Would I have to relearn everything?
Before I could fall too deeply into a bullshit well of self-pity, I picked up the clean cloth and let the water from the tap run piping hot before soaking it under the stream.
I cleaned the wound, scrubbing off bits of dried blood and some other substance I’d rather not know well enough to name. Once the clean bandage was in place, I felt better, even if the soreness around the wound had only tripled as I cleaned it.
I took the antibiotics the vet gave me, scooping water from the tap to help ease them down my dry throat.
A fist pounded once on the door to the bathroom, and I jerked, hissing, “What?”
“Dies just pulled up,” Rook said through the door. “You done? Mav should be here any minute for the meet.”
“Yeah.”
I dumped all my shit in the garbage and swiped the back of my hand over my wet lips before striding out, Rook watching me with a hawk’s eye as I passed him, moving back to the front of Sanctum.
“How bad was it?” he asked as the sound of our father and the other Saints entering from the back door through the kitchen floated to us in the main bar.
I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“That’s a bullshit answer.”
I clenched my teeth. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
It was the truth but that didn’t negate the fact I was missing an entire fucking eyeball. That I’d never get it back.
“Good.”
From the way he was looking at me, I could tell. “You’ve already seen it, haven’t you?”
“Course I have. Corv was passed out while the vet worked on you, but I watched the whole thing. He said you may be able to be fitted with a glass eye if it heals right.”
So I could actually look like Frankenstein’s monster.
Diesel pushed in through the door to the kitchen with a few Saints on his tail, scanning the bar until he found us.
“Mav’s on his way,” he said, striding over, trying to covertly get a look at us.
He dragged a stool from the bar and shoved Rook into it, dragging out another and patting the seat. “Lift your leg.”
“Dies,” Rook groaned.
“Lift your goddamned leg, or I’ll do it for you.”
Rook’s face soured as he lifted his leg, but he barely got it more than a couple feet off the ground before it dropped and he cursed, his body jerking forward.
Diesel grabbed the underside of Rook’s calf, below the bandage there and lifted it into place on the stool, his hand coming away red.
He glared at Rook, not needing to say a damn word, Rook knew he was being stupid. Now, whether or not he cared was another thing.
“Have either of you slept?”
I looked away.
Rook jerked his chin to Pinkie. “Grab me the Jack, would you?”
“No,” Dies hissed, making Pinkie stop in his tracks. “You’ll bleed out if your blood thins anymore.”
Rook’s upper lip twitched, but he didn’t argue.
