Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Fuck. Me.
21
BRAD
* * *
The girls protested when I insisted that I was leaving Hiatus on my own. Except Pearl. She couldn’t even look at me, just stared at the bar while Beau rubbed at her back and glowered at me. She might recant that attitude when she finds out what happened. If she finds out. I saved her. Took a bullet. I’ve unintentionally fueled Pearl’s misconception of me.
I’m no fucking hero.
I sit outside the house for an age, hands on the wheel, staring at the windshield, my phone ringing off the hook. I feel lost. Hopeless. The men and I are back in a time when we all need to be functioning on a full tank of energy and alertness, no distractions. We’re vulnerable. Danny’s vulnerable. James is vulnerable. Now I feel vulnerable too. And we’re making everyone else vulnerable.
I slide out of my car, feeling so fucking heavy—heavy with guilt, heavy with tiredness. Heavy. I pull my phone out as I walk up the steps. Ten missed calls from Allison. A text from Danny asking if I’m home. Nothing from Pearl.
She told me she didn’t know the creep in the alley. I haven’t a clue what to fucking believe but, unbelievably, it took Pearl to remind me that she was a virgin, therefore an ex seems unlikely. Why didn’t I think of that before? That’s the state of my mind right now. The fact that she was a virgin escaped me as I put bullet after bullet in that sleazebag. Sending his ID to Otto confirmed it. He was a nobody. An opportunist. Not connected to anyone I should be worried about. So, again, who the fuck is looking for her?
I text Danny back and ignore Allison, opening the door. Esther is coming down the stairs, Maggie in her arms. She stops and looks me up and down. “What’s happened?” she asks sharply.
“We’re fine,” I assure her. “Everyone’s fine.” I’m far from fine. “They’re on their way back.”
I see her deflate, her feet picking up and meeting me at the bottom. “Tea?”
I smile mildly. Esther’s tea fixes everything, apparently. If only. “I need something a little stronger.” I look down at Maggie in her arms. She’s wide awake, her face rounder than when she was born. She’s found her voice, kicking her legs, flailing her arms. I reach for her chin and tap it with the tip of my finger, looking at her properly for the first time. Oblivious. Beautiful. Innocent. “She’s—” I retract my hand. “Did she just smile?”
“Yes, she’s full of them tonight.” Esther lifts her and nuzzles her face in her neck. “She needs a bottle.”
“Ah, here’s the wounded soldier.” Doc appears at the top of the stairs in his PJs with his bag. “Let’s have a look at you, then.”
“In my room,” I say. I don’t want everyone fussing over me when they get home. “I’ll meet you there. I need a drink.”
“As you wish.”
Doc reverses his steps as Daniel emerges in his pajama pants, rubbing at his eyes. “What are you doing up?” I call up to him.
He frowns at the blood on my shirt. “You’re hurt?” he asks, taking a couple of steps down, stopping when I hold up a halting hand.
I look at my clothes. Blood. Everywhere. “It’s just a graze. Get your ass back to bed.”
“What happened?”
“Uncle Brad’s lost his shit,” I mutter.
“Huh? Pearl said you’d got your shit together.”
I look at him in question.
“When she met your new girlfriend this morning.”
Got my shit together? I sigh. “Your dad’s on his way back. Be in bed when he gets home.” I flick my head, sending him on his way, and take myself to the office, pouring a large Scotch. I don’t hang around, heading straight upstairs.
Before I see her.
Doc’s waiting outside my room when I make it there. “Sorry for getting you up.” I open the door and let the old boy lead the way. He puts his bag on the chair next to the bed and starts rummaging through as I set my Scotch on the nightstand.
“It’s no bother. I’ve been feeling rather redundant lately. Wondered whether you’d send me into early retirement.”
I laugh as I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off. “Early?” The old boy should have hung up his stethoscope years ago. Did, actually, until James pulled him into our world. “You like it here, Doc?” I ask, lowering to the edge of the bed.
He smiles as he turns my arm to see the damage. “It beats wasting my days playing bridge or golf with fellow retired colleagues.”
Purpose. Doc’s a part of this fucked-up family. A vital part. But he’s not only here because he’s handy with a needle and thread. Everyone is fond of him. But he’s just that. Old.
I hiss when he wipes my wound. “It’s a bit more than a graze, my boy.” He holds a swab over it while he dips into his bag. “Breathe.”