I splashed cold water over my face, the shock of it bringing blood to the surface of my skin. Droplets ran down my neck and soaked into the collar of Kreed’s hoodie, but I didn’t care.
But then I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I blinked at the girl staring back at me and nearly gasped. She wasn’t the same one who’d been taken days ago, and seeing her reflection made my heart sink, a wave of sadness moving over me. It was astonishing how much your physical appearance could transform in such a short time when subjected to sustained trauma.
I hadn’t paid attention to my appearance last night, but now…I lifted the hoodie and tee underneath, revealing my skin, and turned my body left and right as I inspected the damage. Bruises mapped across my skin in a constellation of purple, yellow, and green, painting a timeline of violence in varying stages of healing. The one along my side was particularly vivid. My lips were cracked and raw from dehydration. At least my hair was clean although it really needed a brush. It was my eyes that told the real story.
They looked older somehow. The innocence that had lived there before was gone, replaced by something harder and more wary. I was changed. Fundamentally, irreversibly changed. More so on the inside than out, but both transformations were undeniable.
As I stared at this stranger wearing my face, I made a promise to her. To myself. I was determined to claw my way back, to find the courage and strength to be the girl I used to be or at least as close to her as I could manage. She wasn’t lost. Just buried. And I would dig until I found her again.
When I finally gathered the courage to go downstairs, the smell of coffee greeted me halfway down the staircase. The rich aroma of brewing dark roast did something to my brain, tingling it and triggering a dormant craving, and now it was all I could think about.
I didn’t make it to the kitchen because I got distracted by the house filled with testosterone. There were bodies everywhere. The scene reminded me of Brock’s after-parties, when he had them. I’dnever been allowed to come, but I had seen the morning aftermath, and this was close.
Mason was sprawled on the couch with his long legs taking up too much space, his little snores filling the room. Micah was on the adjacent sofa, an arm hanging over the side, fast asleep. Of course, those two idiots would be zonked out while everyone else gathered in the kitchen. Raine leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee. Maddox stood in front of the coffee maker, fumbling with the machine like he had no clue how to use it. Brock sat at the dining table, Fynn and Micah flanking him like bookends, and Grayson stood by the window with his phone pressed to his ear, voice low and serious.
They had all stayed. Every single one of them. For me.
This had to be the safest house in the world, and only an idiot would try to break in with the eight of them under one roof. Gratitude welled up within me, pressing against my ribs and making my eyes burn with unshed tears.
I wasn’t sure how to thank them or if words like “thank you” would ever be adequate for what they’d done. How did you thank someone for giving you back your life?
Maddox noticed me first, and his handsome face transformed, his mouth curving upward into a grin, those light-green eyes sparkling. “Well, look who Kreed let out of her room.” Every conversation stopped mid-sentence, and all eyes turned toward me, creating a spotlight of attention I didn’t want.
I leaned against the door frame, wondering if they’d let me grab some coffee and take it to my room. “He’s still asleep.”
Raine pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a forearm covered in a tapestry of tattoos. “That adds up.”
My eyes found Brock across the room, and relief flooded my system. I grinned. “I’ve never been happier to see your face.”
He was moving before I finished speaking, crossing the kitchen in three long strides. His arms wrapped around me, and he lifted me completely off the floor in a bear hug, my feet dangling uselessly ashe held me suspended, and despite everything, I laughed softly. “You ever pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll make Kreed look merciful.”
“That’s cruel,” I muttered against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
He set me down gently but kept his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length to study my face. “You scared me, Kay. Really fucking scared me. And I hate feeling like that. We’re going to talk about what happened after you’ve eaten.”
“All anyone suddenly wants to do is talk,” I mumbled under my breath, but there was no real heat in the complaint.
For someone who no longer had parents, I sure as hell had accumulated a lot of people trying to parent me. They were overbearing and protective and usually a massive pain in my ass but in the best possible way.
Brock pressed a ceramic mug into my hands, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. “You look like you could use this.”
“You have no idea,” I said, bringing the rim to my lips and inhaling deeply. The rich, bitter aroma of fresh coffee was like coming home.
My cousin ushered me toward the dining table with a gentle hand at my elbow, giving me his seat. I sank into the chair and took my first sip of coffee, heavy on the creamer, just the way I liked.
Brock cleared his throat. “All right, who can actually cook?” He glanced around. “And I mean really cook, not just throw frozen shit in the microwave.”
Dead air followed.
“Fuck,” he muttered when every one of them avoided his gaze. He ran one hand through his dark locks. “Grayson, can you?—”
“On it,” he interrupted from the corner, having just ended whatever call he’d been on. “French toast okay, Kay?”
I nodded, my hands cradling my coffee. “Perfect.” I would eat just about anything, and my stomach growled in agreement.
Grayson lifted his phone again, fingers already moving across the screen, and suddenly everyone was throwing out orders.
“Pancakes with blueberries?—”
