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"What about weed? That stuff is good for everything."
I scoff at her double standards. "You won't let me have pain medicine but I can smoke pot?"
"No! Not right now. I'm just asking about before."
"Weed doesn't do the same thing. I'm not anxious and I don't have morning sickness. I'm… It doesn't work like that for me." Weed slows everything down, makes things more interesting and thoughts flow like water over pebbles in a creek. Smoking makes everything seem like it’s connected to Layla and me. Cocaine makes everything faster, thoughts are like water screaming out of a busted dam. There’s no time to think, no time to ponder whether everything is connected. I prefer not to think, not to remember.
Chapter Twelve
Nell
Ifrown when Knox stops in front of the sink. "You can't wash your hands. You can't get that wrap wet."
He locks eyes with me in the mirror, and the reminder of last night sends my heart into overdrive. "Are you going to help or just stare?"
I surge forward, turning the faucet on and gripping his left hand between mine. I lather soap over his fingers, and then my breath catches in my lungs. My hands slow, becoming gentler as I realize just how close we are to each other. My side pressed to his side, my hands on his hand. This is the most intimate situation I have ever been in. I need to get away from him and help him at the same time. This is so impossible, because I can’t havefeelingsfor my sister’s husband, but I also can’t leave him alone when he’s so obviously in need of help.
Layla would want us to stick together, to get each other through this. She might be pissed we’ve kissed each other, but I know she would want us to be here to protect each other and I’m going to honor that. I’m going to stand by him and see him through this rough patch.
My hands slide over his, slippery with suds. He has calluses on his fingers from gripping the handlebars of his motorcycle. The splits in his knuckles look much better than they did yesterday. There’s a little bit of bruising around them, and around his wrist, too, from the handcuffs. Last night was utterly terrifying, but the strength in Knox’s eyes when he told Pres to chain him up…
“Nell?”
My eyes fly up to him in the mirror. God, the bruises on his face look so painful. I bet that hurts.
“I think my hand is clean, sweetheart.” He keeps his voice gentle and even. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” I rinse his hand and dry it quickly. “Let’s get you back in bed and I’ll go get breakfast for us both.”
He grumbles as I help him to the bed and close the cuff around his wrist. “I’m fucking starving. How long was I out?” Knox leans back against the headboard.
“You slept for about six hours before you woke up, but when we got you back to bed you slept for another twelve hours. You aren’t confused or anything right now?”
“No. I’m lucid. God, I haven’t been this hungry in a year. Don’t skimp on my breakfast, okay?” He looks lucid, despite the pain he’s in. He seems to be okay.
My eyes roll even though I can’t hold back the chuckle that bubbles in my chest. “Sure. I’ll make sure you get plenty of fruits and vegetables. Don’t want to put anything too heavy in that stomach of yours since you haven’t been eating much,” I tease.
He yanks at the binds, lunging for me and gnashing his teeth with a smile on his face. A playful Knox is something I haven’t seen in so long it makes my heart swell to see him again. He reaches out with his bandaged hand and groans, crossing his eyes and acting like a zombie. “If you don’t bring me food, I’ll have to eat your brains.”
“Eww, Knox! That’s a gross image to have in my head!”
“Well then don’t starve me, sweetheart.” He pulls a pouty face, making puppy dog eyes at me. “I’ll be a good boy.”
I blink at the old Knox stuck in this skeletal form. He sounds and acts like the man that was my brother-in-law, but he looks so different. “Okay. Only if you promise to be a good boy. I’ll be right back. Maya said she was cooking for everyone after all the excitement last night.”
“Maya? Oh, good. Knuckles’ Ol’ Lady… I’m sure he’s real happy with me,” Knox says, full of sarcasm.
“Yeah, what was that about? Mac said you two fight all the time.” While he’s open and talking, I’m not walking away to get breakfast. I’ll stand here all day if he keeps talking.
Knox smirks, eyebrows up high. “Where do you think he got his name from?”
Duh.“Sure, but why you?” Knuckles could fight anyone. It doesn’t have to be Knox. Surely there’s someoneoutsidethe club he’d like to get his hands on.
“We have always had issues. When Maya moved in, it got worse. I don’t remember, but I must’ve approached her wrong because he punched me and told me to stay away from her. I know it wasn’t anything serious or he would’ve done worse. We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye often.”
“And yesterday?”
He leans back and looks at me like the answer is obvious. “Knuckles disagreed with my actions yesterday.”
