Page 102 of Hash

It seems to be either people want nothing to do with the Dirty Devils or don’t care that they’re around. There’s no in-between.

“The only family I have is my brother, Scotch, who is in the club. So they love it.” Evan smirks.

I laugh, wincing as it hurts my face.

She’s such a smartass.

“Well, I’m going to let you rest. I’ll leave you the cheeseboard.” Evan moves to get up.

“Oh, you don’t have to leave yet. I’m really not that tired.”

“Doc lectured me about not staying too long and draining you. I know he looks calm, cool, and collected, but deep down that dude scares me. It’s always the quiet ones that will rock your shit out of nowhere.”

I got that vibe from him too.

“Well, we don’t want to make him mad. Do you know how much longer Hash will be?”

The easygoing look leaves Evan’s face, and a hesitant one takes its place. “Before I came up, things seemed to be… tense. I’ll see where he’s at when I go back down.”

I can read between the lines and know Hash is pissed.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, not wanting to put any more stress on Hash.

Evan shoots me an understanding smile. “I’m going to see if I can find you a TV or something,” she says as she looks around Hash’s room. “There isn’t shit to do up here.”

“That’s what I told him, and he had the audacity to look at me like I’m crazy.” I laugh.

“Men.” Evan rolls her eyes. “Bye, little man.” She waves to Cormac before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

I sigh as I reach over and drag the pack and play to the side of the bed.

I wasn’t tired when she was here, but now that I’m alone, it’s hitting me all at once.

“You want to take a nap with mama?” I ask Cormac, who is barely keeping his eyes open. Poor guy.

I get under the covers on Hash’s side, inhaling his scent on his pillow that’s still lingering. The comforting smell slowly lulls me to sleep.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

HASH

Ileave my room with Aisling in my bed, ready to kill someone. The guilt is almost too much to take as my throat feels like it’s closing in.

I jog down the stairs, passing Trick and Scotch, who are lounging on the couch, ignoring them when they ask how Aisling is doing, and head straight for the basement, knowing Cyrus keeps his bag down there.

Turning on the speaker, I wait for my phone to connect before I hear Here To Stay by Korn blasting through the speakers.

I walk right up to the bag and land a hard punch.

And another one.

And another one.

I increase speed as I alternate hands, not stopping even when I can feel my knuckles crack open. My chest is rising and falling rapidly. I can’t catch my breath. I don’t know if it’s from this or the guilt eating me alive.

A roar is echoing throughout the basement over the music. It isn’t until Cyrus’s hands grab my shoulders that I realize that roaring is coming from me.