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Apple leans into my side, careful not to hurt whatever injuries I might have, and wraps her arm around my stomach.
“Don’t you owe it to yourself to try?”
* * *
“He’s in his room.”
I nod my thanks at Soul, who’s sitting on the couch in the common room, a sleeping Cece tucked under his arm. My body protests my every move, but I managed another shower and at least washed off the blood from the fight. Bruises are already forming, and I’ll be sore for a while, but I’ll live.
The clubhouse is eerily quiet considering how loud it was in here earlier, but it’s no less crowded. Members sit around several of the tables, talking low, as prospects work to tidy up the place. And Nikki and Bunny are nowhere in sight which means they’re likelyentertainingsomewhere.
When I reach Mark’s door, I lift my hand to knock but hesitate.
What the fuck am I going to say?
What if he refuses to talk to me?
What if Apple is right, and he’s endured similar trauma as me?
So many what-ifs loop through my mind, repeating like a record with a scratch. I've always prided myself on being able to push through the hard stuff, to charge into any difficult situation without thought of the consequences, so being scared now… It doesn’t feel the least bit good. In fact, all the negativity is sitting in my stomach like a damn ball of pus, just waiting to burst open and destroy me from the inside out.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring the sharp stab to my ribs, I wrap my knuckles on the steel and then step back to wait. It doesn’t take long for the door to slide open, and Jez is standing there like a gargoyle protecting its manor.
She rakes her eyes over me, and then smirks. “At least you look as bad as he does.”
“I need to talk to Mark,” I say lamely, not wanting to acknowledge the guilt that settles on my shoulders.
“Talk or kill?” she counters. “Because those two aren’t the same things, Mal.”
“Who are you—” Mark freezes when he sees me, a towel in his hand and murder in his eyes. “What the hell do you want?” he asks me, his teeth clenched.
“We need to talk.”
“I think we’re way past talking, don’t you?”
I look at Mark,reallyfucking look at him for the first time in years, and shock ricochets from one nerve-ending to the next, only to find its home with the pus ball. My baby brother isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a man. A man with a giant landfill’s worth of pain riding shotgun and an attitude to match.
He’s…me.
Aw, hell.
“Like I said,” he begins. “We’re past tal—”
“Apple doesn’t think so,” I blurt, knowing she is the one person who he’d do anything for. Even talk to me. “And, um…” I shift from one foot to the other. “And neither do I.”
Jez’s eyes widen, and a slow smile spreads on her face. She rises to her tiptoes and presses her cheek to mine, so her lips are close to my ear.
“‘Bout time,” she whispers. “Love you, Mal.” She kisses my cheek before stepping back and turning to face Mark. “I’ll be out in the common room. Come find me when you’re ready to go.”
“I’m ready to go now,” he snaps.
Jez shakes her head. “No, kid, you’re not. Talk to your brother. Yell, scream, cry… do whatever you gotta do to get past whatever this is. Then, and only then, will you be ready.”
She spins around and stalks past me to scurry down the hall into the common room. I’m still standing just outside the door, but I make no move to step inside. Not yet.
Mark glares at me a moment longer before walking back to the bathroom and tossing his towel onto the tile floor. He then goes to the mini fridge and pulls out a beer. When he faces me again, he hesitates and then turns back to the refrigerator and grabs another bottle.
“Don’t just stand there,” he gripes as he stalks toward the small table in the corner and flops down into a chair. He pops the tops off both beers and sets one down across from him before tipping the other to his lips and taking a healthy swig. “Might as well come in and have a drink,” he says without looking at me.
