I think deep inside we knew that once we crossed that line there was no going back.
Edge heaves and I watch in horror as strings of bloody spittle trail from the corners of his lips. His muscles strain as he retches into the dirt below him. He vomits up bright red blood, and it scares the hell out of me before I realize that he must have swallowed it all.
I shut my eyes against all of it. All I want to do is scream, but I do it inside myself. I’ve been deaf since I was born, so everything else is heightened. My other senses. I smell the metallic pain rolling off Edge in waves, scent the anguish in the air around us, thick and cloying. I smell Leah’s sadness, as she lays her small hand at my back. Even with my eyes closed, my hands feel all of it, every painful shift and strain, the groans that I can’t hear.
I wait until Edge’s body stills before I open my eyes. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. I turn to Leah, take in her eyes, so wide and filled with worry.
“Help me.” I don’t push enough air out for it to be anything more than a whisper. “Help me get him to my car.”
I drove myself. He rode his bike to The Canteen, of course, and I know he’s going to be pissed about leaving it, but I’ll have someone come back for it.
“He’s throwing up blood,” Leah protests.
“It’s because he swallowed it. I don’t think it’s coming from his stomach,” I say. I’m just as afraid, but I stop to think for a second. I’ve been around the club for my whole life. I’ve seen things that I probably shouldn’t have seen. I know the kind of injuries that come from fistfights. Reassuring Leah reassures myself. “He didn’t take any blows anywhere that would have damaged anything vital. My dad wasn’t trying to kill him.”
She stares at me like I’ve just sprouted antennas or something out of my forehead. She hesitates for a second, and the pain in her eyes eats me up. Pain for me, because even though we had a rocky start, we’re closer than sisters now. Pain for Edge, because he’s a part of her world, just like all the other brothers and their old ladies. Pain for the man she loves, because he just went apeshit then AWOL.
When I tuck my hands under Edge’s shoulder, she does the same on the opposite side. Together, we manage to get him upright, though he does most of the work.
“Going to get you home,” I mutter, as we take our first shaking, hesitant step. Edge’s heavy. So warm, even though he’s starting to shiver, and so fucking heavy, as though each limb is carved out of stone.
“My bike,” Edge mouths, like I knew he would.
Leah turns to me. “No way in hell,” she says, probably sharply, because she rolls her eyes after.
That’s the thing about not being able to hear. You learn to pick up on people’s expressions to determine their tone.It’s way harder to lie to someone who is deaf. Trust me. We’re used to watching every nuance, every shift and tick.
“You’re going in my car. I’ll drive you.”
Edge stiffens, but he doesn’t stop putting one foot in front of the other, probably just to spare me and Leah, who are panting and sweating under his weight. He hates this. I don’t have to look at him to know that. He’s a man. A proud, impossibly strong man, the VP of Steel Riders. He doesn’t like needing help.
After what feels like miles of panting and straining, which is in reality, only about a hundred feet, we make it to the parking lot. Edge leans heavily against my car, a nineties sedan that my dad fixed up for me. It’s not much to look at, but it runs perfectly and it was assembled and put together with all the love in the world. At least, I used to think so.
I pull open the passenger door and glance at Edge. He eyes it doubtfully. “I’m filthy,” he protests. “Bleeding all over.”
“I don’t care.”
My eyes flick to Leah, who surprises me by saying, with a perfectly straight face, “get in the car, Edge. Fucking now.”
Apparently, he’s done fighting with himself. Maybe he’s close to passing out. Maybe he’s used up what little strength and sense my dad didn’t beat out of him, because he angles himself in and practically falls into the seat. He pulls his limbs into the car, one leg after the other, his arms following. I shut the door and turn to face Leah.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her face crumpling, tears spilling over, now that she can spare a second for her own emotion.
“It’s not your fault.” I lean forward and wrap my arms around her.
I was pissed when I found out she was messing around with my dad. She’s only two years older than me. I thought it was just a bit of fun for her, I thought she was using him to make her rich daddy mad and she was going to be his downfall. I was wrong. She loves him fiercely. She’d do anything for him. They just about lost each other when she was taken by a rival club, and after that, when my dad got her back, I knew she was sticking around for good. I realized how real their love was.
Their love gave me the courage I needed to tell Edge what was in my own heart.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her, pulling back. “I’ll wait until the morning, and I’ll come back to the house. We’ll talk sense into Dad, and everything will be okay. I promise.”
Leah nods and takes a shaky step back. I know she probably rode with my dad, but I don’t offer her a ride home, even though our house is only a few miles from Edge’s. She doesn’t ask for one. She has her purse with her. She can call for a cab or call one of the other old ladies. She forces a smile and gives me a wave after I slip behind the wheel.
I give her a tight-lipped smile and return the wave before I stick the key in the ignition.
As I pull out of the parking lot, guilt stabs at me, compressing my chest in until I feel like my ribs are pressing up against my backbone and I’m all hollowed out between. I want tohope that everything will be better in the morning, but I know it won’t.
I know that the road ahead of us is long and winding and full of holes and that it will never go back to being how it was.
