“And you joined in without telling me?” The betrayal in my voice was too thick, but I couldn’t stop the irrational feelings that inundated me until my stomach churned with nausea. I hovered on the verge of rage, but the sensation of loss joined the assault of emotions. My fingers itched, but for what? To fight? To punch something that wasn’t PD?
He dithered again, which wasn’t him. His trust in me to handle the truth had disappeared, and it was a reminder of how the rest of the club felt, too. I was a liability. “King thought torture might be too much for you right now.”
His words landed a harder blow than anything physical would’ve, even with all my injuries. I took a step back, and PD went to rush forward, but I held up my palm to him. “Fucking don’t.”
“You’re my friend, Will, and I saw what happened to you. That spill.... You were on the ground, broken and bleeding, and I thought you were dead.” He glanced away, as though it hurt to even look at me. “I saw you die. Three times on the way to the hospital. They brought you back with CPR every time, and I had to watch as they zapped you back to life.”
“Poor fucking you,” I snapped. I turned my back on him and zeroed in on the steel bucket I’d been sitting on. I kickedit as hard as I could and it went hurtling toward the garage wall and clattered against the bricks. The metal crumpled, then the bucket thumped back onto the floor, but that was nothing compared to the pain that speared my ribs like a heated rod of agony.
I fell to my knees with a shout, clutching my abdomen, where fiery torture assaulted me. PD was at my side in an instant, crashing to his knees and grabbing my arm.
“Fuck, are you okay?” He laid an arm around my shoulders, clutching me and squeezing gently. “Do you need to go to the ER?”
Despite the pain, I shoved him away, and he fell on his ass, eyes wide in surprise. “Fuck off. I don’t need your help.”
Hurt passed over his face and he sighed, sitting back with his elbow on his knee. “Will?—”
“Don’t.” One word took every bit of my energy to shove out of my mouth. I hated this cavernous divide that had festered between us since I’d woken up in the hospital. We grew further apart with each passing day, and the friendship, and more, that tethered us frayed until we’d become barely recognizable. I wasn’t the same man. I felt different. Iwasdifferent.
“Tell me how I can help,” PD finally whispered after a moment of silence swept past. He didn’t move, but his muscles stiffened, as though he was ready to rush into action once I gave him a task.
“You can’t.” I bent my head and held my abdomen tighter, hoping the pain would go away. It didn’t. “Nothing anyone can do will help me. I’m fucking broken.”
PD shifted slowly until he was on his knees again. He shuffled closer but didn’t touch me. “We can fix broken. When our bikes break down, what do we do? We fix them. They’re not perfect, but they’re ours. They’re loved. It’s the same with you. You’re our brother and we care about you. Let us help.”
I laughed. “Not even King and Undertaker trust me to kill one of the men who did this to me. What kinda care is that? Fuck them.” I thumped my chest and it rattled my lungs when I drew in a breath, but I shoved aside the burning sensation. “I deserved that right. Not Undertaker or King oryou. That Demon ruined my life.”
“I know.” He tugged on the brim of his hat and groaned. “This is royally messed up.”
“You think?” I grumbled with a wince of pain.
He stared at me for a long few seconds before he rose to his feet. Holding his hand out, he gave me a small smile. “Come on, let’s get some painkillers for you and talk about it. We can come up with a plan.”
I thought about arguing with him, but tiredness hit hard, reminding me of the lack of sleep I’d achieved in the time I’d lain down. I grabbed his hand and let him help me stand. A rush of dizziness had me swaying, but PD was there to hold me until my vision righted itself. The doctors had said to expect balance issues, and I’d felt it a lot since I’d escaped their walls, especially while riding my bike. I didn’t tell PD about any of that, though.
He opened his mouth, and I glared at him.
“Don’t ask.”
He held up his palms, and I grunted as I wrapped an arm around my abdomen again and hobbled toward the front door, which he opened before I could get there. I didn’t argue this time, merely nodded as I passed the threshold. He guided me toward the kitchen, and I sat down at the table as he stalked to the drawer where we kept the drugs I’d been prescribed.
He dragged out a box of meds and filled a glass with water from the fridge, and then he made his way back and placed them on the table in front of me. He sat down, and I glanced at him, taking in the bruised rings beneath his eyes and lack of laugh lines around his mouth. I might not be the Will who went intothe hospital, but PD wasn’t the same man, either. We’d both changed, and now he was sitting in front of me, playing nurse. I was dragging him down.
“I should move out.” I slid the box of painkillers across the table and pulled out a sheet of blister packs before popping four pills, then throwing them into my mouth. I took a sip of water and swallowed.
PD straightened and his jaw tightened. “What?”
“You heard me.” The throb from my ribs continued and I rubbed them carefully. “This isn’t working, Paris. I’m not fucking good for you.”
He snorted. “Is this how you’re doing it? You’re playingthatcard?” He shook his head and his hand curled into a fist on the table, drawing my attention to his tattoo. The wordLoyaltywas inked across the back in cursive writing with a black-and-white skull behind it. His body was a natural canvas and he’d always branded himself with poignant art. Some of his other tattoo artists had inked areas he couldn’t reach, like his neck and collarbones, but he only let people he trusted do it. My own body art was his work, and I appreciated every line he’d traced with his gun against my skin.
I didn’t answer him.
He stood abruptly, knocking the chair behind him to the floor. “Fuck that, Will. I’m not letting you do this. You’re not leaving. I’ll fucking chain you to your bed if I have to.”
“I’m not asking for permission.” I closed my eyes slowly as a sense of relief washed through me from the effects of the meds. “I’m telling you.”
“Where you gonna go, huh?” He tugged on his hat again, the obvious frustration making him restless. “This is your home. You’re mad at King, so you’re not gonna head to the clubhouse.”
