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But I wanted Amelia to come home, and that meant I had to make things different for her.
“You’re up as early as any hard working, respectable member of the pack.” I returned.
Shaw’s lips curled up in a faint smile. “How come you never seem to know what’s going on in the real world, and yet you always have a zinger for your siblings?”
“I might not understand the world, but I understand you.”
Shaw’s shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. “Touche.” He sounded mild mannered. Shaw was in touch with his flaws. He didn’t mind them.
He was so different from Stone, who tried to root out every perceived flaw, as if he could keep us all alive through sheer grit and determination. Sometimes I found myself seeing visions of Stone from the past or the present. But Stone’s dreams were the worst, because he was constantly imagining every horrible thing that could happen. Stone’s world was full of pain. It seemed like he had to have it that way, so he could try to safeguard us against it, but it meant that he ate and breathed misery.
“He's certainly made Amelia miserable,” I said. “And himself too.”
Shaw quirked an eyebrow at me, reminding me that he hadn’t been part of my earlier thoughts. He drummed his fingers lightly against his coffee cup. “Sit down and talk to me, brother.”
“I don’t have time. I need to get into Nathan’s head.”
“Nathan is dead.” Shaw spoke the words with utter confidence, and yet, he didn’t dare believe them either. It was amusing to me how confident my brothers always sounded. A learned skill.
I supposed it served them well, but it was all bullshit. I hope they at least admitted it to themselves. They were big and dangerous, just as I was, but that didn’t mean we weren’t fucking confused as hell at how to get through life. I remained convinced thateveryoneis fucking confused.
“I need some time before I go into Nathan’s head,” I admitted. “His head will be a miserable place.”
“Especially if he’s dead,” Shaw hesitated before he asked, “Have you seen anything about Amelia?”
“I’m trying.” Which was different. I normally tried to escape my visions, not that it stopped them from flooding my brain. I just wanted the dreams, the sweet dreams. “I helped Amelia have some good dreams last night.”
“Stone is out trying to pick up her trail,” Shaw said quietly. “She’d had to have stopped for that to work though, within a good perimeter of where he’s searching. She’s too smart for that.”
There wouldn’t be much of a scent left behind which she’d been traveling by car. Stone would have to get lucky. Amelia, who had dressed herself in apple cider vinegar, was not going to be easy to catch.
“I worry Stone will go to the Longroad pack. Because Amelia had help, and it must have been those men she was so worried about. Aiden and Lawson.”
“Stone should leave them alone,” I said, surprising both Shaw and myself with my vehemence.
But in Amelia’s memories and dreams, Lawson and Aiden were both a question mark and a comfort. I added, “If Stone kills them, she’ll never forgive him.”
“I don’t think she’ll forgive him anyway,” Shaw sounded bitter. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to us, and I think Stone ruined it.”
Shaw looked away, raking his fingers through his hair.
Even rumpled, worried, and dressed in the same T-shirt and basketball shorts he slept in, Shaw looked handsome and self possessed, ready for anything. For the first time in a while, it occurred to me to wonder what I looked like. I glanced at myself in the mirror that hung in the entryway. Even from a distance, my appearance shocked me. I looked like a stranger. I had enough stubble across my jaw that it was beginning to turn into a beard, and my hair was dark and wild, curling around my ears, looking distinctly oily. My eyes were dark and shadowed, and I looked as haunted as I felt. Maybe evenhaunting.
I didn’t look like a man who could help Amelia. I didn’t look like I could help anyone.
I looked like the wreckage I felt inside.
But Shaw and Stone and Cole faked confidence, and it seemed to work for them. People trusted them to help, and they did. Despite their imperfections
I had many imperfections. But I still wanted to help. I still wanted to be trusted.
Karissa came in just then, and she looked over the two of us as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re both awake.”
“Can you cut my hair for me?” I asked.
Karissa’s lips parted in surprise. Occasionally, Stone and Cole tackled me—half-joking, but half-not—for Karissa to trim my hair.
“After I take a shower,” I added.
