She gives me the most motherly look I’ve ever gotten. “From a bullet,” she says evenly and then shakes her head. “Let me clean this.” She rummages around in the set of drawers beside the vanity table, pulling out a first aid kit. She swipes it with antiseptic, and I hold back the hiss from the sting. She applies antibiotic ointment and then tapes a little gauze pad over it. She pulls me into a hug, surprising me with her ferocity. “You need to be more careful.”
I’m not about to tell her that isn’t in the cards right now. “Yes, Marcella.” She squeezes me tighter before letting go and pulling back. “I need to check on Micah.”
She nods. “This way.”
She leads me back through the living room and through the kitchen before taking a right where there are several doors. She knocks on the closest one before opening it. Micah is sitting on the edge of the bed, and Giovanni is wrapping his upper torso tightly in a huge ace bandage. Micah is pale as a ghost and sweating bullets.
“You look like shit,” I say, walking into the room.
“You don’t look any better, shithead,” he replies.
Marcella throws her hands in the air and disappears from the room. Evander is leaning against the wall in front of the bed, his arms crossed, staring at Micah.
“Nothing seems broken. This will help with movement, and he can take it off when he feels ready,” Giovanni says. “He’s lucky.” He finishes securing the bandage. “I’ll leave you guys to it.” He walks by and ruffles my hair like I’m still a kid, shutting the door behind him.
“You can go,” Micah says to Evander, tugging his shirt back over his head.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Evander says, pushing off the wall, fire blazing from his eyes.
“Yes,” Micah says between clenched teeth.
I look between them. “Maybe I should go.” I turn on my heel and reach for the doorknob.
“No,” Evander says, walking toward me, “I’ll go.” He slides by me, jerking the door open and striding out.
I shut the door back and turn to Micah. “What the hell, Micah?”
“What?”
“Why are you being such an asshole to him?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“I’m not,” Micah scoffs, standing slowly from the bed.
“You are,” I reply, getting angry.
“I don’t get involved in your relationship, so stay the fuck out of mine.”
I lift an eyebrow. “So, there is a relationship?”
“What? No!” Micah sighs. “Can we drop this?”
“Oh hell no. Start talking.”
He shakes his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Something’s going on that you aren’t telling me.”
“Because I don’t have to tell you everything!” he yells, making me jerk back. Micah has never yelled at me.
“Wow. Okay.” I drop my arms. “Fuck you then,” I reply hotly, pulling the door open.
“Alessa.”
I don’t even turn around. I know he is okay, and that’s all I need to know. I take a left out of the room toward the backdoor. I know this house like I know the back of my hand, and this door leads right out to the fence by the field. I just need some fresh air to get my thoughts straight and figure out what to do next.
Micah yelling at me hurt. Sure, we argued and had disagreements, but we never fought, and we sure as hell never yelled at each other in anger. Whatever is going on with him, he can figure it out on his own now.
Marcella’s is the only place I know where I can hide Nina until we can figure out what to do with her. I slide onto the swing that overlooks the field and pull my phone out of my pocket. I dial Alexey, and he answers on the first ring.
