“Yeah,” I said. “That was just…weird.”
“What happened?” Trey asked.
I explained, which had Trey doubled over in a fit of laughter.
When he composed himself, he said, “And that, little brother”—Trey gestured to where Addie had disappeared—“is why you don’t shit where you eat.”
“I will kill you with my bare hands.”
Trey raised a brow in the direction of my left arm, which was in a sling to keep it immobile while my gunshot wound healed. “One-handed?”
“That’s all I’d need.”
He grinned. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Fucking annoying brothers. I supposed I should be thankful they weren’t all here to witness the aftermath of that showdown with Addie.
“I’m glad you finally cut her loose, though.”
One of my brows curved upward, eyes popping open to narrow on him. “Finally?”
“Please, bro.” He laughed. “You’ve only been entertaining the idea because you couldn’t have who you really wanted.”Fuck, am I that transparent?I thought, careful to school my expression, though I wasn’t sure it mattered. Trey continued. “Now, though…I think your circumstances have changed.”
“What do you mean?”
Trey raised his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no, little brother. I’m not getting anywhere near that. You can figure your shit out for yourself. I’ve got my own unrequited love to deal with.”
I had so many questions about that last statement, but I let it go. Like he said, I had my own shit to worry about.
“I wish I knew what she was thinking,” I murmured.
“Well, again, I’m not getting involved. But…for what it’s worth, the way Sutton screamed when you went down? That wasn’t the reaction of someone who doesn’t care about you. In fact, I think it was the opposite. That’s all I’ll say.”
My gaze whipped back to his. “She…screamed?”
“Like she’d been the one who’d gotten shot.”
four
. . .
SUTTON
To saymy sanity was balanced on a ledge a few thousand feet off the ground was an understatement. One false move would send me tumbling toward a psychotic break.
For the first few days after Lane was shot, I constantly battled myself, trying to decide whether I should go to the hospital and check on him, or leave him alone.
When I heard the news that he’d finally woken up, I could breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t entirely out of the woods yet, but being awake and, according to Crew, seeming to have sustained no long-term mental damage, was a good start. But the war between whether to avoid him or go to him waged on.
Would he even want to see me? As far as I knew, he hated me, and while how I felt about him was the polar opposite of that, I couldn’t stand the thought of going to see him only for him to turn me away.
So I decided to do nothing.
Still, going about my day was difficult given the amount of anxiety that sat like a weight on my chest.
He’s awake, he’s okaybecame a constant, endless mantra that barely managed to get me through.
Hell, maybe Ididneed to go see him. Maybe I needed to at least put eyes on him and give my brain the proof it needed that he’d be fine.
