montana
. . .
Bright lights awoke me. Similar in intensity to what I’d stood under in November. Game Seven. I groaned, bit off a cussword while glancing around the room. Momma. Washington. Texas. Auntie Peaches. Tennessee would be here, but he’d stayed with Darius.
Which meant … Working my jaw, I growled, “Where’s Journey?”
“Just rest.” Momma padded to my bed.
“Bruh.” Texas dragged a hand through his dreads. “That’s the first thing out your mouth? A broad’s name?”
Ignoring him, I scanned the room until my eyes landed on Washington.
He scrubbed his fingernails over his short beard, avoiding my stare. “She was here when the doc said you’d be fine, but were sedated, waking up soon.”
“She should be around here somewhere.” Momma stepped into the hallway for a quick glance in both directions. “Journey rode in the ambulance,bébé. A few nurses said the EMTs thought she knew her stuff.”
A jagged sigh ripped outta me. Should’ve been relief. But my body ached, and her disappearance didn’t sit right in my chest. It clawed. Glimpses of her gorgeous, glittery brown eyes flashed. Those eyes had locked on mine when I thought I’d slip under. She’d knelt with me, hands steady, whispering things I couldn’t quite hear but damn sure felt. She’d climbed into the ambulance like she belonged to me. Her kind of goodness? Didn’t come every day.
Where the hell was she now? I couldn’t let her go. Be a fool to. Now that I’d had a taste of having her around … She damn sure hated Big Country, but she cared for me. I’d bled into her hands, and she’d stayed.
Auntie Peaches flicked at a nail. “She must’ve gone home.”
“When y’all get here?” I asked.
Momma shrugged.
“When?” My growl snapped through the room.
Texas lifted a shoulder. “Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe more. Why?—”
I didn’t let him finish. My hands tore at the wires and straps hooked to me—IV line, oxygen clip, heart monitor leads. These restraints had to go. Alarms blared. The monitor flatlined.
Damn, she ran. She ran. “I’ma chase this girl down.” I chuckled under my breath.Journey, you turn everything into a joke. See how hilarious it is when I catch you, girl.
“Bébé, you’re in pain,” Momma said over the medical alarms.
“Nah.” It only hurt if I breathed deep. I got up. Body tilted sideways. Took Texas’s hand, but I didn’t fall on the linoleum floor.
A nurse rushed in. “Big Country?—”
“Get me a bottle of your best, sweetheart.” I stuffed the words through gritted teeth, taking a step. “Pills. Cognac sounds good. But I meant pills.”
Her eyes snapped to Washington. Though he’d swapped the tailored suit for a jogger tonight, his deep tone was more judgmental than ever. “Brotha, sit your narrow behind down.”
“Ain’t narrow.” When I turned, the nurse gasped—high and suggestive. My momma spoke with Jesus, and Auntie Peaches snorted so hard her shoulders shook.
A draft hit me.Aw, hell.A cool breeze on my ass. I slammed my hands on the nightstand. A plastic bag with the words PATIENT BELONGINGS sat on the ledge. I reached into it for my pants while glaring over my shoulder at the nurse. “Bring me something, bébé!”
Her fantasy shattered. Face red, she spun on her heel and fled.
Better be to get that bottle. I snatched my slacks from the bag, mind on Journey again.
I’d asked her to stay hours ago, before the nurses rushed me away. Did I speak English or Kouri-Vini? Damn, I was delirious. Still, I thought my blood on her hands meant she’d stay.
My chest heaved, rage mixed with something ugly, unfathomable. Fear. Annoyed, I barked, “Wash, I’ma need your keys?”
“You just had anesthesia!”
