The minute the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have said them.
Dixon launched forward.
Guess all it took was my smart-ass mouth to ruin any chance of this situation ending without a brawl.
Catalina ran to the side, getting out of the attack zone. She clutched Tessa’s medical gown to her chest, her face pale. That was the last thing I saw before the world became a flurry of fists, fresh blood, and feral howls.
An hour later,bruised and bloody, the four of us were splayed out on the sectional with various bags of frozen vegetables slammed against our swelling faces. I had a towel under me, though the cushion I’d soaked was probably already ruined.
Catalina was on the phone with a local spa that specialized in wound recovery. Apparently, they could completely erase any evidence that we’d nearly killed one another. All it would take was ten grand and a few hours.
“Yes, we’ll pay extra if you can come today.” Cat paused, listening. “That will work.” Cat ended the call and stuffed the cell into her pocket. She had Tessa’s gown tucked under one arm, refusing to let us be near it for now. When she strode towards us, she was shaking her head in annoyance. “You guys are going to be the death of me.”
“Or each other,” I quipped, repositioning the lumpy bag of Brussels sprouts. I’d gotten the shit end of the stick. Dixon’s peas molded so well to his damn face.
“Tray,” she warned.
“You love me,” I shrugged and cringed. Every part of me was sore.
“What I love is that apparently beating the hell out of one another was what you guys needed to get over yourselves.” She studied us. We all had our one good eye trained back at her. Under different circumstances, we’d probably laugh at how we’d all managed to end the fight with swollen, bruised right eyes.
“I do feel strangely better,” Mac admitted, shifting against the sofa carefully. I was pretty sure his right arm was dislocated, but none of us had the energy yet to help him pop it back into place.
“Yeah,” Dixon sort of moaned, lifting his foot onto the coffee table. “Think my leg looks wrong. Is my kneecap off center?” He touched his knee, trying to push it into place. “Yeah, that hurts like a mother. Gonna have to pop that back into place. Damn.”
“Ryder?” Catalina homed in on him, quirking an eyebrow.
“Honestly?” He shrugged, holding a bag of sweet corn against the left side of his face. “I still don’t know how I feel. But I also don’t want to kill these assholes anymore.”
“Good enough.” Our probably exhausted, de-facto mother finally seemed to relax. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” She moved to the leaning coffee table—one leg of it was snapped in half now—and pulled the bag out from where it was tucked beneath her arm. Removing Tessa’s gown from the plastic, she placed it in the very center of the tabletop. It slid slightly against the angled surface, then settled in place.
“This stays here.Here.Not over there,” she pointed at the kitchen, “or there,” she pointed at the entrance foyer, “or there.” Lastly, she pointed at the hall leading to our rooms.
“What about there?” I pointed at the ceiling.
She ignored me. “Get used to Tessa’s smell. Do whatever you need to do to relieve lingering hostility, so you guys don't become absolute, damn beasts again when she arrives. Blow a load. Fuck each other. Hit the gym. I really don’t care.”
“Blow a load.” I chuckled. “You got a way with words, CeeCee.”
“Yes, well. It’s why I’m one of the highest paid publicists in Los Angeles, thank you very much.” She cracked a slight smile.
I was glad to see that after the terror we’d just put her through. It meant we hadn’t irreparably damaged our relationship.
“The beauticians will be here in about two hours,” Cat continued. “Please, for the love of all things holy, don’t cause any more damage in the meantime. I’m going to my apartment to have a cup of tea. Though no amount of chamomile is going to erase the memory of the UFC cage match that just happened in this living room,” she sighed, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.Hell, the weight of our world actually did.“I suppose I should call the carpenter again. Hopefully he can get the mantle and shelves and,” she paused and peered around the living room, “everything else fixed before Tessa’s here.”
When she was gone, we all looked at one another. I didn’t know about the other guys, but I was feeling like a fucking idiot.
“Well, Dixon,” it was Ryder that broke the silence, “Guess you really aren’t the only one breaking shit now.”
I don’t know why—maybe because we were all in an adrenaline crash—but that was the funniest fucking thing anyone could have said. Wild, unchecked laughter filled the room.
And I knew our pack was going to be just fucking fine.
23
MAC
1 DAY AGO... AN HOUR AFTER THE BRAWL
