I doubted it, but I was the only one in the room who knew the source of his temper, so I kept my mouth shut and retreated to the old couch that had survived the fire at River’s Porth Luck garage.
It was covered in scorch marks and smelt like a badger’s ashtray and, aside from anything and everything in Orla’s flat, was probably the most comfortable place I’d ever parked myself.
Fatigue swamped me so hard it gave me whiplash. Like I was falling off a fucking cliff.
“Food, Nashie.” Rubi pushed toast into my hand. “Then I’m taking you for a nap.”
Wasn’t hungry.
Didn’t feel like going to bed despite how fucking tired I was. But I accepted Rubi’s wares, grateful that he seemed more interested in Saint eating it than me.
“You like them seeds, brother?”
Saint frowned, chewing slowly, as if the buttery doorstep might kill him.
I elbowed Rubi. “Leave him alone.”
“Oi.” Rubi pushed my elbow away from him. “I’m not harassing him. Just trying to keep you crazy lot nourished.”
And I knew it. But Saint was rattled—both by Cam and Alexei’s collective moods, and the unquestionable fact that they werebothnow keeping something from him. It was a wonder he was still in the room with us at all, let alone that he was eating, and however much me and Rubes wanted to hug the shit out of him, Saint needed space, even when he was right next to us.
Rubi let it go, which had the unfortunate consequence of his attention on me instead.
I kept eating, and I couldn’t deny whatever magic he’d worked with his pile of toast was so fucking good that I didn’t notice I’d eaten most of it until his anxious scrutiny relaxed and he flopped back on the couch.
“Don’t worry. I fed Orla too before she went to bed, but you should know she’s in Locke’s room.”
Bread turned to sawdust in my mouth. I nodded, forcing it down. Rubi opened his mouth to say something else, but the angry roar of a Kawasaki Ninja cut him off.
Alexei.He was leaving—actually, he’d fuckingleft, and Saint was off the couch so fast he left his tea hanging in mid-air.
“Mother ofdragons.” Rubi threw out a hand, smacking the mug away from me, showering his entire left arm with boiling tea. “Shit. Nashie. You okay?”
Was he serious?
I surged from the couch and seized his dry arm, hauling him to the sink. With Locke alive and well in my head, I set the tap to just above cold and pointed it at Rubi’s wrist. “Where else did it get you?”
Rubi ignored me, craning his neck to see whatever fuckery was going down in the yard. “Cam ain’t coming out. Saint’s leaving too—put a fucking jacket on, you lunatic!”
His booming shout deafened me. But he was right. Apart from the obvious, it was still raining, it was cold, and Saint had lost half his immune system last year.
Fuck’s sake.I abandoned Rubi and dashed outside, forcing my jacket on Saint before he could tear out of the yard, blocking his path until he shrugged it on and gunned his engine.
Move.
I moved, turning my face to the damp sky as he hurtled away. How was this night so crazy when nothing had actually happened?
Rubi emerged from the garage, shaking out his wet arm.
“You’re supposed to keep it under the tap for twenty minutes.”
“It’s fine, Nashticles. Don’t give yourself anything else to worry about.”
I peered at his skin, but he was covered in ink, and it was dark. I couldn’t tell if he was truly hurt or not. Just that his other arm draped around my shoulders felt good—felt necessary—as the lights of Saint’s bike disappeared.
“Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what all that’s about, are you?”
“What makes you think I know?”