I don’t say another word as I watch her replace the hat on her head and then bend to retrieve something from beneath the stroller. As she does, the back of her sweater rises, revealing a slither of skin where ink is etched into it. There’s blue and blackand grey and I can just make out what looks like a butterfly wing, but it isn’t the tattoo that catches my focus and keeps it. It’s the puckered, angry flesh beside it. Scarring. I can’t see where it starts or where it ends, and before I can open my mouth to ask what the fuck happened, she’s making her way out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Ilay in bed that night, Lily in a travel cot beside me, a gun under my pillow, and mace on the bedside unit beside my cell. The door has been locked; I triple checked that and all the windows too, with the security system set, but still, I can’t sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the shooting and hear the bullets hitting the things around me. I see the blood on Dean and hear Lily’s cries. And if I’m not seeing that, I’m imagining whoever tried to kill us today breaking into my house to finish the job. It’s too much. I don’t feel safe.
I hadn’t planned on leaving the hospital so soon. I’d felt safe inside that room with Dean, but then his probing started, his need to know, to see it all, and I fled. It would be so easy to bare it all, and that’s why I can’t. All it takes is one person knowing; secrets don’t stay secret if they’re spoken outside of your own head. And if Dean knows, if he finds out, what’s stopping him from telling everyone else? What happens when that word spreads and spreads? My life gets dangled like a carrot for the monster to find.
Eventually, I pass out, but the sleep is so far from restful that it would have been better if I hadn’t slept at all. I move throughmy morning routine with Lily, feeding her, bathing, and dressing her, but just before I’m about to leave, my cell buzzes with a call.
Dean’s name flashes on the screen, and I immediately answer.
“Everything okay?” I rush out, my worry making my voice shake.
“Fine,” He grunts, “I’m being discharged in the next hour. Meet me at the house.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before the line goes dead.
A pang of guilt works through me.
We’re not friends, Dean.
It shouldn’t hurt for him to treat me just like I told him to.
“You hear that?” I coo to Lily as I lift her from the blanket on the floor, “Daddy’s coming home.”
I stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, watching the car parked at the front of the driveway. It’s Killian’s car, and I can just about make out their shapes in the front seats. I’ve been here almost thirty minutes; Lily is napping, and I cleaned even though it was already spotless. Something I’ve noticed with him. Everything is clean, tidy, and put away, but I still ran a duster around and found no dust, and still vacuumed and mopped the already spotless floors. The door slams, and Killian walks around to help his brother from the car while carrying a bag full of supplies from the hospital. Dean looks tired, not at all like the man I’ve come to know in the past week. His hair is disheveled, his eyes tired. He’s in a pair of gray sweats and a white tee, arm in the sling the doctors have ordered him to wear.
I rush to the door to get it open for them before they get there, and when Dean sees me, something loosens in his shoulders.
Killian doesn’t appear to notice it, but I do.
“How do you feel?” I ask, nibbling on the corner of my lip. His dark eyes drop to it before they jump back up.
“Like I got shot,” He grumbles.
I move to the side with a wince, letting the two of them pass and shut the door behind them, turning the lock.
“Where’s Lily?” Dean asks with his back to me.
“Napping,” I explain, “Here, let me take that.” I offer to Killian, who hands me the bag. Brushing past them, I head into the kitchen and empty the contents, trying to keep my expression neutral at the number of drugs now on the counter.
“The doctors wrote down when and what he needs to take,” Killian hands me a slip of paper. “Can you make sure he takes them?”
“I’m not taking that shit,” Dean grumbles and pushes away from his brother, “I’m going to see my daughter.”
“Should you be alone?” I move to follow.
“I haven’t had a minute’s peace in forty-eight hours, just give me a goddamn second.”
“Dean,” Killian scolds.
“Fuck off,” Dean snaps before he takes himself out of the room, and I listen to his steps as he trudges up to Lily’s bedroom.
“Just give him five,” Killian sighs, “He doesn’t do well in these situations.”
“What situations?” I cock my head at Savannah’s guy. He’s older, with age lining the spaces at the edges of his eyes.
