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Chapter Eight
Nell
“Prospect!” Knuckles calls through the clubhouse. When he sees me, his lips thin. “Go open Tree’s door, honey. We’re going to drag him to his room.”
“D-drag? Why? He was fine a minute ago.” Did he get high again? He was just talking to me, apologizing to me not even five minutes ago. He said he wasn’t high before I rode with him. How could he possibly have gotten high between then and now?
“Well, you might want to go ahead and get Doc, too. Hey, Prospect.” Knuckles nods at the man that’s approaching us. “I need you to help me get Tree to bed.”
James groans. “Christ. Is he out again?”
This is a common thing for him? He just passes out in the driveway and they carry him in? It’s hard to imagine strong, goofy Knox being this now. This… wounded creature that turns to drugs for comfort because he has nowhere else to go.
“He had some help falling asleep this time.”
The math suddenly adds up and anger flares through me. “You beat him up? Why would you do that?” I move to look out the door, but Knuckles blocks me with his arm.
“Just make sure his door is open. I’ll bring him in.”
I huff out a breath as I rush up to open the door to Knox’s bedroom. I run back downstairs and peer into the kitchen for Doc. It’s empty except for Mac, who I ask, “Where’s Doc?”
Mac looks up at me with concern in his eyes. “What happened?”
“Knox- um, Tree… I think he fought Knuckles. Tree went after my ex and then-”
“Okay. I’ll call Doc. He’s not here right now.” Mac taps a button on his phone and then looks back up at me. “You take a deep breath and keep your shit together. Those two fight all the time. It’s nothing new.”
“Mac!” Knuckles screams. “Come get this goddamn door!”
Mac moves past me to open the front door. Knuckles has the legs and the prospect has the arms, carrying Knox with his head hanging down at an angle that looks uncomfortable. He’s dripping blood from his nose and the side of his face. His fingers are dragging along the floor, leaving a trail of bloody streaks along the wood.
I channel my sister’s strength to keep from crying at the sight. I run to catch up with them. “Put him in the tub so I can clean him up!”
They groan but they take him into the bathroom, and I reach between them to hold Knox’s head up so it doesn’t get slammed again into the tub.
Knuckles leaves muttering under his breath, but Prospect stays behind. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “Do you need any help?”
“No. Just make sure someone calls Doc, please.”
“Of course.”
I slam the bathroom door shut when he leaves and bend my head over the tub, letting a few hot tears sear down my cheeks. I have to pull it together. Knox needs my help now more than he ever has, and that means I can’t be crying like a baby that he's taken a few bumps.
I blow out a breath and pull his boots off his feet before I turn the water on. I plug the drain and search through the closet for first aid supplies and a washcloth. I have to fight back the urge to fall into a puddle of tears constantly, but eventually I find a cloth and kneel beside him.
“You have to clean up, Knox,” I whisper to him, knowing he can’t hear but hoping the idea will seep into his subconscious. “I need you. I need you to be sober. For me. I know it’s not fair but… life’s not fucking fair. So if it’s too hard to do it for you, you can do it for me.”
His blood-stained white shirt sticks to his skin as the water gets higher, fitting to his body. He used to have carved abs and muscular arms. He’s still muscly, but not nearly as much as he was. The six-pack has dwindled to a two-pack. His bulging biceps are now half the size they used to be.
One summer, when I was thirteen and Layla was fifteen, Knox took us to the lake to go swimming. I was an awkward third-wheeler, lanky and nerdy. I was only missing the glasses. I had the rest of the set- braces, no hips, no boobs, and no concept of what was so interesting about Knox’s damn mouth. My sister was obsessed. She was always looking at his lips, touching and kissing them. He was tall, but he was skinny. He had some muscles but nothing to write home about.
That summer Layla was the source of a lot of jealousy for me. She was all tits and ass, with wide, curvy hips and miraculously clear skin. Knox was obsessed with her too. I didn’t care about their relationship except that it had perks for Layla, and Layla always let me tag along. If he was taking her to the movies, she would let me come too. If he bought her something from the gas station when we stopped to fill up, he bought me something too. When he taught her how to drive stick-shift in his pick-up, well, he tried to teach me too. I was too short to reach the pedals and see over the wheel at the same time.
The following summer, we had all changed. Layla was still curvy and gorgeous, but I was getting curvier as well. Knox had gone from skinny todamn.He filled out all his t-shirts to the point of threatening the seams. That summer, I started to see the appeal of Knox’s mouth, too. My hormones were crazy, waking up so many new feelings and thoughts. My skin was never as clear as Layla’s, but sometimes when they kissed on the beach-
Knock knock.“Nell? It’s Doc.”
“Come in.” I shift to the side so Doc will be able to fit between me and the cabinet to get a look at Knox.
