“Hey, Cass.” Bram stalked across the room to Cassie’s bed. “Rem wanted me to get you a smoothie. Said your body needed the protein to heal or some shit.”
I cursed myself for not stopping for the breakfast burritos. Cassie loved breakfast burritos and Remy was right: she needed protein, real food. I couldn’t even think about the fact that I’d somehow ended up competing with Bram for his sister’s attention.
Maeve eased into the room behind him, her hair in a ponytail, watching him like a nervous dog owner whose Doberman had a bad reputation at the dog park.
“Hey,” she said.
I flashed her a tight smile. “Hey.”
She walked over to the bed. “Hi, Cass.”
Cassie glanced just to the right of Maeve, which was understandable since Cassie couldn’t actually see her. “Hi.”
“You look good,” Maeve said. “Want me to braid your hair?”
“Okay.”
Maeve opened the drawer in the bedside tray and removed a hairbrush, then pulled out Cassie’s ponytail.
Her hair fell around her shoulders in fiery waves, and my heart clutched in my chest at the sheer beauty of her.
Even here. Even now.
I didn’t really know Maeve. Other than the day at the loft when Cassie had told Bram she’d joined the Hunt and lost — to us — I hadn’t spent any time with her at all. But she seemed to be good for Bram, if being good for someone meant curbing their homicidal instincts.
Bram took the coffee I’d given Cassie out of her hand and replaced it with the smoothie cup. “Need anything else?”
She shook her head. “Jagger brought coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t food,” Bram said.
What a dick.
He turned around to look from Hawk to Vigo to me. “You can leave.”
Hawk leaned back and stretched. “No thanks.”
I side-eyed Hawk, wondering what was up. Over the last three days we’d made a point to leave whenever Bram was around. Our truce — necessary to center Cassie and her recovery — felt as fragile as the layer of ice that covered the Blackwell River in winter.
Vigo looked down at the hospital gown, which he’d finally managed to tie in some complicated configuration that probably wasn’t even close to right.
“I just figured this thing out.”
Bram’s expression hardened. “It wasn’t a request.”
I cut a glance at Maeve, her gaze darting between Bram and Hawk like she was preparing to wade into battle while she brushed Cassie’s hair.
“We need to talk,” Hawk said.
“Nothing to talk about,” Bram said.
Hawk’s eyes flashed. “Wrong. We need to talk about where Cassie’s going when she gets out of this place tomorrow.”
“That’s easy,” Bram said, folding his arms over his wall of a chest. “I’m her family. She’s coming home with me.”
Hawk leveled his gaze at Bram. “Wrong again.”
11
