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The lingering ache in my chest and the little pops of fear take time to dissipate. Nothing’s happening now. Her face isn’t tense with pain. No tears at the corners of her eyes. Her fever isn’t gone, but it’s less.
It’s okay. She’s going to be okay.
I didn’t have time to be terrified on the way here. I cordoned it off like the ring at the warehouse. Bristol might have been out of it, but the twins weren’t. The last thing I wanted was for them to think they’d lose her. The part of me I pushed down was certain I would.
Loseher? Lose what? She’s not my temp. She’s not my girlfriend.
She’s everything.
It’s just leftover adrenaline, that’s all this is. And how soft her hand is in mine. And how I haven’t taken a full breath since the day I sold Summit.
Hughes Financial Industries edges back into existence.
Bristol wanted me to stay, and I would, but the twins are here. And Sinclair. An uncomfortable knot tries to form in my gut. I told myself I needed another person to sit with the twins. That’s what I told him, too. But I also wanted someone else here because I was scared to death.
Who the hell am I anymore? I don’t call my brothers because I’mscared.I don’t getscared.I don’t have feelings like that. And if I do, they’re only good for one thing—a bout in the ring. Or three. Or however many it takes to knock me out.
If I said that to Sin, he’d raise one eyebrow and ask me if I wanted a hug, or some other bullshit.
I run the pad of my thumb over Bristol’s knuckles, and my thoughts stop running around like drunken frat boys. Dropping her hand onto the covers feels like a dick move, even for me. Better to tuck it in next to her. Pull up the blankets.
Sinclair and the twins are in the spare bedroom. Sin’s sprawled in an armchair behind Ben’s side of the desk with the laptops. He looks at the screen with furrows in his forehead. “What’sthat?”
“A creeper.” Ben answers without looking away from the game. “Can’t let it get close. If it does, it’ll stop moving and explode.”
“How can it walk with those tiny-ass feet?” Sin notices me and nods. “Hey. How’s Bristol?”
“Better. She’s resting.” Mia steals a glance at me. “Doctor said she’d be well on her way in forty-eight hours.”
“Two days?” Mia says.
“Yeah. Could be three or four until she’s at a hundred percent.”
She looks back at the screen, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “Are we staying here until then?”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to go to school? Bristol says we have to go, or else people will be worried about us.” She frowns, a deep, annoyed curve of her mouth, her eyes narrowed. It lasts for about as long as it would take to snap my fingers. Then her face is smooth again.
“Bristol’s right. As long as you’re not sick, you should go to school.” She’s correct that people will worry if they don’t show up. In my experience, teachers and principals never worry about anything that matters. Their interfering asses usually make things worse.
“Do you want us to walk?” Ben asks. It sounds like a Mia question, sliding in exactly when she’d say it. “Or the subway?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s far,” Mia says. “It’s by our apartment.”
Sinclair watches this with a look on his face that tells me he’s having the time of his life. “I’ll come sit with Bristol while you’re at drop-off.”
My oldest, deepest instincts want to haul his ass outside and drop-kick him to Antarctica for suggesting I need his help, and for using thattone,the one that says I’ve somehow become a suburban dad because Bristol’s too sick to take the twins to school.
Except the motherfucker would probablylikebeing drop-kicked to Antarctica. He’d take a video of himself and post it on Instagram and make a million dollars. Then he’d write a long-form piece about how his fuckup of a younger brother gave him the gift of a lifetime and win a Pulitzer.
Plus, the twins are listening. They’re pretending not to, but it’s the least convincing act I’ve ever seen.
And.
I don’t actually want to leave Bristol here by herself. If she took a turn for the worse during that time and I’d left her alone, I’d never forgive myself.
