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Or maybe it was self-induced. I did seek her out, demand she answer my questions. I don't think I'll ever forget the tortured look on her face when she broke down. I don't know if I ever want to forget. There was no disguising her pain. Her nearly desperate plea for me to understand she's always loved me. I let her parting words roll over me.
“All I kept thinking was this is my miracle. You were my miracle, Asher, and I've thanked god every single day for you. From the first moment you were placed in my arms. You're my son, and no amount of blood work will ever change that for me.”
I pull another drink from the bottle, the burn easing all too soon. Before long, it won't burn at all. Maybe then I can achieve the illusive numbness I'm desperately chasing. To give my restless mind a break.
I've spun so many circles—too many—in the last few hours that I've lost my sense of direction. I watch the lightning dance across the sky as the clouds open up on the earth from my perch on top of a picnic table in a rest-stop pavilion. I'm right on the edge of Rosewood, a hundred feet from city limits where our town borders Crestview. It feels a little reckless in a way, kind of like I'm flirting with the idea of trouble, but I don't have it in me for caution tonight.
Shit's brewing in Rosewood, and we still have no idea who was behind the attempted robbery at Evangeline's place. My chest constricts a little just thinking about her. She's one of the few genuine bright spots in my life, and I hate the fact that I can't be with her right now. I exhale a silent plea to ease the tightness and remind myself that she's with Bane and Silas. And they'll take care of her until I can get back.
Still, I should probably check on her. Or check-in. Before I lose myself in the bottom of a bottle for the night. I slip my phone from my pocket and fire off a text in our group chat.
Me: How is she?
Silas: Who?
A slice of blind panic pierces my booze-warmed haze. Did Ma tell Silas already? I don't know why, but I wanted to be the one to tell my brother that we're half-brothers. And I hadn't really planned on telling him—or anyone else—anytime soon.
Me: Evangeline
Perspiration dots the back of my neck as I watch his dots bounce along the bottom of my screen. “C'mon, old man, don't type with just your index fingers,” I coach like he can hear me. This is it, a perfect opening for him to tell me he talked to Ma.
Silas: She's with Bane at the hospital
Me: Still?
My brows sink at the same time my shoulders relax. They've been there for hours already. In my experience, that's not usually a good sign.
Silas: How's the cleaning lady doing?
Our not entirely original nickname for the clean-up crew who handles the unsavory shit the Reapers need cleaned up. Truthfully, we haven't had much need for them over the last handful of years. Not since we brokered peace.
Me: Great. She'll be done by now, and she's giving me her full report on any areas that need extra attention before next time.
I lift the bottle to my mouth and absently take another drink, my attention on my phone. Patience has never been my strong suit. I give him another thirty seconds before I send another text.
Me: @Bane where are you
Bane: Home
I exhale, irrationally irritated with his one-word answer.
Me: Where's Evangeline?
Bane: In my bed
Silas: You better be joking.
Bane: I didn't say I was in bed with her
Silas: You implied it.
Bane: Don't bring me into this. You're the one thinking about our girl tangled up in my sheets
Silas: Absolutely not. Just because I didn't want to see Hunter's nanny hurt doesn't mean shit. Stop reading into it.
Silas: Back me up, @Nova
Me: Keep her safe until I get back
