“Please don’t shut us out. We’ll help you in any way we can.” Kingston’s voice is rough and gravelly but sure. “That’s a promise.”
Coming to stand just behind the two of us, so that we’re one united front facing her, Cannon captures her attention. And I don’t know what she sees when she looks into his brooding, tormented eyes. Safety, maybe. Understanding. Whatever it is, though, is the catalyst we need. Slowly, she draws in a shaky breath and separates her tightly clamped-together legs, allowing Kingston to take the towel from between them. He gently urges her to lean back a little.
The sound of air being sucked through his teeth is all we hear for several seconds. Elliot refuses to look down, but the rest of us do. I supply Kingston with a damp washcloth so he can wipe away some of the blood on her inner thighs.
Her left thigh is untouched, the skin unbroken, but— I blink. I’m not seeing things. There are fine, silvery lines visible. I can’t stop the question that spills out. “Elliot, who’s been doing this to you?” Cannon’s hand comes down on my shoulder as if he’s using me to steady himself, because he totally sees them, too.
She wets her lips, and her face flames bright red. Her entire body begins to quake. “I-I did.” Her eyes crash shut, tears finally slipping from the corners. “I did it to myself.”
Her admission is shoved firmly to the back burner, though, as Kingston blots her right thigh, and we’re finally able to see what the Nick-inflicted damage is, the physical stuff, anyway. He cut into her leg multiple times, just like she said… but they aren’t randomly placed lines. Fucking. Arrogant. Asshole. I reach up and tug on my hair with both hands, my chest squeezing hard on my heart before I sense Cannon shift behind us. My eyes flick back to catch his reaction as fury passes over his features.
Because that asshole Nick carved an N into her skin, three horrific lines overtop the scars on her right leg. My brain misfires, unable to properly handle all the information presented at once. Our girl. She cuts. Or cut—though I doubt there’s ever a complete recovery from something like that. And now everything becomes crystal fucking clear as to why Kingston reacted the way he did. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her scars. This is the secret he uncovered and hid for her, what he was unwilling to betray her confidence for—not even with us. It had to have thrown him for a loop during the week leading up to the anniversary of his sister’s death. Hell, I know it did. I saw how it badly it fucked him up firsthand. I’m positive if he saw these scars on her that he’d have had a hard time separating the two of them in his head, no matter what Elliot said to him.
I swallow hard, then do my best to regulate my breathing because I don’t want her to know how hard this is hitting me. I can’t. She needs us right now. Hell, we’re all going to need each other.
“Fuck,” Kingston grits, turning his head toward Cannon and me. It’s clear Cannon is ready to go back to the motel and finish Nick off, and I’m certain Kingston is right there with him.
Elliot quietly asks, “Is it bad?” Her eyes travel among the three of us.
I don’t fucking know how to answer that question. Is it bad?Not awful.The cuts are mostly superficial and have already stopped bleeding. Is what it symbolizes bad?Fuck, yes.I heave out a breath, rolling things over in my head and watch as Kingston sets the washcloth aside. “Elle—”
Just as he starts to speak, Cannon spins around behind us and puts his fist right into the wall, and all at once, it’s like the room has exploded with his pent-up emotion.
“Cannon!” Elliot cries out in anguish as both Kingston and I turn, grabbing him by the arms so he doesn’t inflict more damage to himself or the wall.
He struggles against us, then finally, his shoulders sag, and in his gravel-coated voice he murmurs, “Sorry.”
Kingston blows out a hard breath, first looking in astonishment at our brother before his gaze slides apologetically to Elliot. Without taking his eyes from her, he murmurs, “Cannon, how about you and I go for a walk? Cool off for a few.” He pats his shoulder, and we both release him. “I could use a few minutes myself, as long as Elliot is okay with it.”
She closes her eyes, nodding. “Yes, please. I’m probably better off without everyone hovering, anyway.” She bites her lip. “But you’ll come back?”
Kingston’s brow furrows, and he moves back over to stand in front of her, gripping her chin in his fingers. “Thisscaredus. You haven’t scared usaway.There’s a big fuckin’ difference. We’ll go wrap our heads around some shit and be back. Once Archer takes care of you, you should try to rest.” He leans in and presses a firm kiss to her forehead. Her reaction is one of immediate relaxation.
Once Kingston steps aside, Cannon comes to stand before her, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. For a second, I don’t know what’s in his head, and it makes me nervous, but then he catches her face between both of his hands and lowers his lips to cover hers.
I blink, watching them move from a slow, gentle kiss that comforts them to an all-out plundering as his tongue slips into her mouth. With a small whimper, she grasps his forearms and hangs on tight as he devours her lips and drinks in every last bit she’s willing to give.
Kingston chuckles, shaking his head and gesturing for me to follow him into the bedroom to give them a second. Once we’re out of earshot, his expression turns grim as his eyes find mine. Quietly, he says, “I don’t want to leave her, and Ireallydon’t want to force you to be the one to deal with the aftermath when she realizes—” His eyes crash shut.
I let out a deep sigh, my eyes flicking to his as they open again. “I’ll be okay. Cool head under pressure, right?”
“Except for when you kicked that insufferable dickhead.”
My lips twitch, and I run a hand through my hair, finally shooting a smirk at him. “Yeah. Might have seen red there.”
“You weren’t alone.” Kingston wets his sinfully full lips, and I can hardly tear my eyes from them when he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay if I take Cannon down to the creek for a bit?” He gestures back toward the bathroom. “That, in there, seems to be helping, but I’m worried that he won’t handle it well the second she realizes what that son of a bitch carved into her. I think it’s going to set her off, so be ready for that. For him, the additional stress we’ve been under lately—I’m betting it was the major contributing factor to his last seizure, so this? It’s only going to compound those issues. I want a chance to talk to him about it, maybe see what he thinks we could be doing to better help him.”
I nod. “Yeah, I agree. Lack of sleep, craziness around here, and a lot of shit piling up without any end in sight. If you can keep him calm and maybe convince him he could use some extra sleep today, I’ll help Peaches get cleaned up.” I press my lips together. It’ll be on me to be her support system.
He holds his hand up, and I don’t hesitate, firmly clasping it with mine as I look into his familiar green eyes. I tug him close to me, and he clasps the back of my neck, bringing our foreheads together for a few moments as we simply stand and breathe together. Cannon strides out of the bathroom on a mission, points toward the door, and keeps right on going.
If I had any question as to whether Cannon would react badly to what’s happening between Kingston and myself, I simply don’t see it. He’s accepted us with zero judgment. It reminds me why he’s such a good friend. My evolving relationship with Kingston hasn’t changed the fact that the three of us love each other like brothers. Frankly, it’s a relief. And apparently, Cannon thinks it’s a complete nonissue, no need for any discussion at all.
Kingston squeezes the back of my neck before fully releasing me. “I’d better go. You sure you’re okay?”
I nod. “We’ll be fine.”
From the bathroom, the sound of Elliot whimpering reaches our ears. Our eyes widen as we stare at each other.
