Evan brushed my face with his finger. This time it was an apples-to-apples comparison, and I felt nothing. "I'll help you get your feet under you and then you can leave this place for good."
I peered up at him. "What if I decide to stay here even if I agree to the house and our companionship?" I had no other word for it, but it made him flinch. I wasn't sure if it was themain question about staying at the club or the coldness of the wordcompanionship, but he looked hurt.
"There'd be no reason for you to give up your nights with Jack or me when I'm at the house. I told you I'll take care of you."
Again, it all sounded pretty damn perfect except the part where I had to ignore my heart. But then the last few minutes with Ronan had assured me my heart was not to be trusted with decision making.
I produced a smile even if I wasn't feeling it on the inside. "I know Oscar is timing that two minutes. And I really do have to get out on the floor."
Evan nodded. He walked to the door and stopped. "Tell me I'm not a fool for still holding out hope that you'll say yes."
I gazed at him in the mirror. "You're not a fool. Just need a little more time."
He walked out, and I released a sigh that I was certain was the sound of my heart releasing all the air out of it at once.
twenty-eight
. . .
Ronan
The Wilde family was notorious for doing dangerous things that ended with injuries requiring the care of a doctor. We were also notorious for not bothering with the doctor, especially if it was something like the gunshot wound to the calf Dad suffered back when we were mostly too young to understand. Colin, Nate and I listened at the kitchen door as Dad walked out to confront a "business partner." They argued, and before Dad could dive out of the way, the man shot him in the leg. The shooter hopped in his car and raced off the ranch, leaving behind a cloud of dust and an empty shell. We raced out the door and found Dad sitting in a pool of his own blood. He'd taken off his shirt and was tying it around his leg to slow the bleeding. Zander and Jameson had returned from riding bikes as the three of us struggled to get Dad into the house. Dad wouldn't let us call an ambulance or take him to the hospital. He knew a few people, people with questionable backgrounds, who knew just enough about medicine to be either helpful or incredibly dangerous. In the end, his friend, Mad Maggie, as she was called in his circle, came and plucked the bullet out of his calf muscle. It had missed the bone entirely. Dad's yell was loud enough to shake the rafters as she poured whiskey into the bullet hole. Mad Maggie must nothave been all that mad because he healed fast, and aside from a slight limp for a year, you never would have known he'd been shot.
My brothers and I had all suffered multiple broken bones, and while Dad usually took us to the hospital to get them set, we never returned for follow-up X-rays or cast removal. Dad even bought a small saw, so we could cut them off at home. Nate had a scar by his thumb where Colin had cut him with the saw while removing a wrist cast.
I cut open the tape around my fingers. It was frayed and dirty, and the fingers beneath felt stiff and numb, as if they weren't really part of my body. It had been three weeks since I'd snagged my pinky on the tree. I remembered that day well because it was a particularly bad one. It was the last time I'd spoken to Rachel. The knuckle on my pinky didn't look quite right, but I doubted it would ever look normal again.
Bending and straightening all three fingers took some concentration and effort, but once I started moving them, the numbness vanished. The pinky was probably not entirely healed. The doctor said at least five weeks, but I didn't have five weeks. I promised Doris I'd show up to the jobsite today, otherwise she was going to fill the vacancy.
The coffee finished brewing. I decided to throw my right hand straight back into life. I used it to pour the coffee and realized it was about as good and steady as my left hand had been at pouring coffee.
Colin was just finishing a loud yawn and scratching his bare stomach as he walked into the kitchen. His hair was standing straight up on his head, and his neck was covered in red marks. I handed him the cup I'd just poured. "Here, you look like you need it." I glanced past him to make sure no one was behind him. "Who do you have in there? She was really dramatic. 'Colin! You fucking god, Colin!'" I mimicked the theatrics I'd heard, only Idid it in a quiet voice. His partner was definitely not quiet. Even the upstairs neighbor had been stomping on the floor at the noise.
"That's right. You were in bed when we got home. That's Janelle, from work."
"Mixing business and pleasure? I think that's a big no-no."
Colin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we stopped for drinks and to complain about our grumpy boss and one thing led to?—"
"You fucking god, Colin?" I repeated.
Colin chuckled. "Yeah, that. She's really quiet and easygoing at work, but man between the sheets, she's, well, she's a?—"
"A banshee?" I supplied.
"Stop finishing my sentences,twin.Besides, I was going to say something a little more flattering like tiger, but considering how loud she got, you might be right." Colin grabbed two waffles out of the freezer. "Now we're going to have to talk and set new rules and boundaries. Shit, I'm such an idiot."
"Yep. Would not want to be you right now."
Colin walked to the table to set down his coffee. "Fuck, why did you leave your filthy bandages on the table?" He shoved them, so they flew off and landed on the floor. "How many times did you wipe your ass with those things? Shit. You're a pig."
I waved my left hand. "Used this one and, frankly, I got pretty damn skilled as a southpaw."
I sat down with a cup of coffee. Colin grabbed my wrist and held my hand up to the light coming through the blinds. "This muffin wasn't baked all the way through. It still looks tweaked."
"Yeah, I see that. I need to get back to work. Doris will fill my spot, and I can't afford to lose this job."
"Don't have to tell me that."