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“Jesus, Rogue.” I feel like I can’t breathe. The pressure crushing my chest is too much to sustain, and the heat in my blood is scalding.
I don’t give a fuck that I’m still wearing my clothes when I climb in behind her and pull her on to my chest. I gotta hold her, I have to let her know that I’m here.
We stay like that for so long, breathing each other in, and it isn’t until I realise that the water’s turned cold that I slide out and take a towel from the rail. I help her onto her feet and wrap it around her body. She may be broken and bruised but she’s still perfect. And she’s mine. As long as I’m living, no one will ever hurt her again.
“You gotta let me take care of you now, Rogue,” I whisper, praying that now I’m in, she’ll never shut me out again.
“Did you mean what you said before?” she asks, wrapping her dripping wet arms around my neck. “Back at the farm, when you said…” A tiny hint of a smile lifts onto her lips again.
“Rogue, I don’t know what the fuck this is. What I feel for you is a physical pain, but it’s one that I wanna feel for the rest of my life.”
“You think two fuck ups like us got a chance?” she asks, her big blue eyes magnified with tears and looking so fucking beautiful.
“We got no other choice, Rogue.”
The way her smile widens tells me she likes the sound of that.
“Now go get dressed, I’m taking you to hospital to get you checked out.”
“I’m fi—” I silence her with my finger again, and she bites down hard on its tip.
“Fine… I’ll come with you and get checked out, but only to stop you worrying, and because I need to check on Squealer.”
Telling Grimm everything felt surprisingly relieving.
Carrying secrets is a tiring burden, and now that he knows all my ugly, I feel a little lighter. I’d seen the pain it caused him, the heat was penetrating off him. But if me and him stand any chance in making it together, we can’t have secrets.
I agree to go to the hospital with him, despite knowing I’m fine, because I know that Squealer isn’t. Back at the farm when I’d heard the gun go off, I’d known straight away it was serious, and if we lose him it will be all my fault.
Turns out all those sick fuckers who spent years hurting me, are all monkeys working for this Ivan guy. And now because of me, the club has a problem with him too.
Grimm calls Skid and tells him what’s happened and of course, he’s already on his way back to the club. The club will need all the numbers they can spare while we wait for the blowback of what happened today. But I make Grimm promise me he won’t tell Skid about Chop. Skid’s dying on the inside, and I won’t be another issue for him to take on his shoulders.
Maddy catches a ride with us to the hospital when we leave. Jessie still hasn’t come home and no one’s telling me shit, so I know things aren’t looking good for Squealer. As soon as we get to the ER, Maddy rushes off to find Jessie for an update, promising to find us and let us know when she’s heard.
It takes forever for me to be seen and I can sense Grimm getting real pissed while we wait.
“How's ya head?” Troj asks, after I finally get the all-clear and we join him in the family room.
“They glued the gash in my scalp and gave me some pain killers but I still got one hell of a headache,” I tell him, taking a seat.
“Roswell’s just been in to take a statement, he’s gonna have to speak to you for the record, but we’re covered.”
“Any more news on Squeal?” I ask, hating how worried Troj looks.
“Squeal’s out of surgery, but not out of the woods. He had to have a blood transfusion and Screwy’s refusing to leave him, he won't even take a fuckin’ smoke.”
“Stay here with Troj, I’m gonna go see if he’s okay.” I slide my hand out of Grimm’s.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Troj looks at Grimm nervously.
“I’m just gonna check if he needs anything, it’s the least I can do.” I’m not about to wait for permission from either of them and when I stand up and Grimm tries to pull me back, I show him a look that tells him exactly that, before I continue to make my way toward the room Squealer’s in.
Screwy’s sitting in a plastic chair beside his bed, and it looks like it’s gonna buckle under his huge frame. He looks broken, staring at a spot on the floor with his hands clenched together. He doesn’t even look up when I step inside the room, and I feel real fuckin’ awkward about the whole situation.
“I’m sorry ‘bout your brother,” I croak, not really knowing where to start. He’s got every right to be mad at me. Screwy’s gaze doesn’t lift, but his foot taps a little faster, and I wonder if he’s gonna blank me out completely.
Squealer’s wired up to a heap of machines, ones that keep buzzing and beeping, but he’s breathing by himself, which I’m taking as a major positive.
