AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I kiss her, and I rub my wounded face against hers, beard rasping on her soft cheek, and I sooth her tears away with my thumbs. “I’m so sorry, kitten. So sorry I’ve been distant with you.” I’ve wasted this whole week. What an idiot I’ve been!
“It’s okay.” She rests her face in my hands. “It’s understandable after what you’ve been through.”
“I should have let you have that kind of time when we first found you. But I didn’t. I was an ass.”
“Stop it.” She pulls her face away and tosses her head. I know, because I feel the air move. “You’re a leader, and you took charge of the situation the best way you knew how. It happened to be exactly what I needed. If you keep beating yourself up over it, I’m going to have to—” She breaks off.
“What? What are you going to have to do, kitten?” I can’t deny that her defending me is a turn-on. She’s magnificent when she’s fighting for me. Like she fought for me in that cell. Threatening to cut off my “Hammer.”
She huffs. It’s a mirthful sound. “Punish you,” she says.
I chuckle. “Where did that come from?”
“Ben—er—uh, Brawn.”
“Ben, huh? He tell you his old name?”
She nods. I love that she’s brave enough to talk about one of my guys with me. I’m glad she’s been intimate enough with him that he’s opened up to her. Now, I’m wondering just how intimate they’ve been. That must be a sight, giant Brawn with our little kitten.
I wait for jealousy to bite, but it never does. Instead, I find myself wanting a front row seat to that show.
“He likes being punished, does he?”
“Not, like, for real,” she says. “But he, uh, likes when I take charge. It’s not as kinky as it sounds.”
“My, my. My little kitten has grown. Maybe I’ll be the Judge of just how kinky it is when the two of you play. Maybe Daddy needs to—” I was going to say watch. I don’t like when the others avoid words like that, but in this case, it truly doesn’t fit.
“I’d like that,” she says. “You’re invited any time, as long as Brawn’s okay with it.”
“The guy that jerks off no matter who’s in the dorm with him? Yeah. I think he’ll be okay with it.”
She laughs, and the sound is glorious.
“Don’t forget,” she says when she sobers. “We wouldn’t be where we are—the eight of us—if it hadn’t been for you.”
Looking back on it, I can’t believe I encouraged her into the beds of six other men besides me. Sharing was never something that interested me. In fact, finding out my wife was having an affair with my brother devastated me so bad I beat the shit out of him. I beat on him so bad that Miranda thought I was killing him. Maybe I was. But the bullet she fired that was meant for me, that’s what did the deed, instead of my fists.
The bullet should have hit me. But it hit Shorty. Right in the eye. Killed him instantly. With a shudder, I remember the black hole where his eye should have been and the gush of blood and brains out the back of his head.
My hand reaches up to touch my scarred-over sockets. During the day, I wear sunglasses, so no one has to see my damage. Sure, Doc cleaned me up. He debrided the edges and stitched my lids closed. Then he healed the wounds. I’m all patched up, but it’s unsettling to see someone without eyes. I don’t want to put my brothers or Cora through that. But it’s the middle of the night. I’m not wearing sunglasses now.
My fingers skim over the scars, feeling the hollows where my organs of sight used to be. And I remember Ghost’s words to me earlier.
“I don’t think the problem is with Doc’s Gift. I think the problem is with you.”When he told me that, he meant that I had to participate. I had to want to be healed for the healing to work. What if Doc can’t heal my eyes because deep down, I know that what Lazarus did to me is poetic justice?
I never finished serving my prison sentence. The Virus interrupted it.
Jesus Christ. That’s it. That’s why he can’t heal me. It’s because I don’t deserve to be healed. Without even realizing it, I passed a sentence on myself. A lifetime of blindness as penance for Shorty’s death.
“What is it?” Cora asks.
“I just thought of something.” I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I take Cora’s hand, and I guide her fingers to my scars. “I think I know why Doc can’t bring my eyes back.”
She doesn’t shy away. Softly, she traces my brows and the hollows beneath. “Why?”
“Remember I told you about my brother? How he died?”
“I remember.”
