Unruly (14 page)

A few moments later, Alamo and I were walking through the hospital corridor to Killer's room. It was far from easy being there, thinking about the way this could've gone, thinking about someone I called family being hurt, but it could've been a hell of a lot worse.

Big Eddie was standing against the wall outside Killer's room. He looked up when he saw us, and the glance he sent my way was anything but subtle. His opinion of my relationship with Noah had been made clear repeatedly.

I shook my head slightly. I wished there was another answer I could give, but nothing was going to happen with Alamo. He'd made that clear, and I needed to just accept that his flirting was without intent to deliver. It was harmless, and I needed to let go of any hopes I still had.

I put a hand on the door, but I didn't open it. Instead I said, “I appreciate everything, but I want to see Killer alone.”

Alamo nodded.

“That goes for
you
too,” I told Big Eddie.

He shrugged. “I'm just holding up the wall and keeping that boy from deciding he'd rather check himself out before the doctors—and Echo—decide he's clear to leave. If Killer had his way, he'd have left when Aubrey did. Echo had to swear to personally stay on Mrs. Evans' sofa just to get that one to agree to take a nap last night.”

I couldn't even pretend I was surprised. Killer had dedicated himself to every martial art he could, as well as marksmanship lessons, in order to keep Echo safe over the years. Since he'd fallen for Aubrey, he'd been more than a little focused on her safety, and I suspected he'd be worse after a home invasion.

“I won't keep him awake long,” I told them both. “I just need to see him.”

“Echo said you'd be by.” Big Eddie gave me a sympathetic look. “He's going to be just fine. I promise you. If he wasn't, Echo and Aubrey would both still be in there. They went home for sleep, though.”

He didn't come right out and mention my dad, but I knew that he was aware of why I needed to see Killer. I suspected Echo was too. I nodded and pushed open the door.

Killer was in the hospital bed. Wires and tubes were connected to him, and he was paler than he should be. I wouldn't say he looked harmless, even now. He did look more vulnerable than I liked.

His eyes opened, and he smiled at me. “No' said you'd be here.”

“Noah gets a few things right,” I said as I walked over to the chair beside the bed.

“He was scared,” Killer said slowly enough that I knew he was on narcotics. I'd seen other Wolves in the hospital and recognized that determined speech; it was as if even now they had to be too damn stubborn to admit weakness. I could
see
the IV tubing, and I
knew
he had been shot. I could see the bandages, but . . . he still had to try to sound invulnerable.

“I'm okay, Ellie Belly,” he said when I met his gaze. He'd obviously been watching me study him.

Tears filled my eyes again. “You're the closest thing I have to a brother or cousin or—”

“I'm
fine
, Ellie. Look at me.” He reached out, and I tried not to notice that his hand was shaking.

“I know that,” I snapped as I took his hand. “If you weren't, I'd be yelling at you.” I took a couple deep breaths. “All I could think about was . . .”

“Your dad,” Killer finished. “You and No' both.”

It was odd hearing him use the silly name we'd both called Noah as kids. Noah claimed to hate it, but we all knew that was a lie. “How come you didn't have a nickname?”

He squeezed my hand and said lightly, “You
do
remember that I was christened something other than Killer, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “It's not the same. We were the only ones who ever called him ‘No' and you two were the only ones who called me ‘Ellie Belly' . . . which is not a very flattering name, by the way.”

He shrugged and winced. In true Killer fashion, he glared at his bandage, as if the wound were something sentient he could intimidate.

I giggled. Seeing Killer being himself was enough to get rid of the illogical worries that had brought me to see with my own eyes that he was okay. It wasn't that I doubted any of them when they swore he was fine. I'd just needed to see that.

“I feel like I just got you back in my life, and you go and do
this
,” I chastised. Despite my best efforts, my voice cracked a little as I added, “You need to stay safe. I need you to be safe.”

He stared at me, and I knew there was a secret to share that would involve his not being safe. I knew it the way I'd known he was holding secrets when we were kids.

“Whatever it is, don't tell me yet,” I said quickly.

“I'll be careful . . . doing whatever it is,” he promised.

“I don't want to know today.” I stood and released his hand. “I just needed to see you. Now that I have . . .”

Slowly I lowered the backpack from my shoulder.

“Mama said Echo wanted some things brought in. These aren't
yours
, but I know how you are with your blankie.”

He quirked his brow again. “Blankie, huh?”

I shrugged and said, “Do you want it on the chair here or closet?”

“Right here.” He held out a hand. “Tell Big Eddie to come in on your way out. He'll get me situated so I'm able to sleep.”

Carefully I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Listen to the doctors, Killer.”

Then I left, only to find Alamo still in the hallway waiting to carry me home. Big Eddie gave me a bone-crushing hug, and I went out far more relaxed than I had arrived. Seeing that Killer was alive and himself was all I really needed in order to go home and rest.

And even though I'd said I didn't need Alamo to wait, I couldn't deny that I was grateful that he'd done so. Both he and Noah had done what I needed them to do as I tried to keep my heart and nerves together. Killer might not be blood family, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep from falling apart if he had been more seriously wounded.

My family wasn't exactly traditional, but it was
mine
. Killer, Noah, Alamo . . . they all mattered enough that in that moment, I was simply grateful that they were all safe and well.

Chapter 13

W
HATEVER PEACE
I'
D FELT TOWARD BOTH
N
OAH AND
Alamo ended within days, unfortunately. Noah was as underfoot as a body could be. After all the times when I'd wanted his attention, I had it now that I didn't. Alamo, on the other hand, was back to his disappearing act. Sometimes I swore they conspired to make me want to strangle them both—Noah for being a lousy friend and Alamo for acting like I was trying to stalk him but claiming we were friends. Men sucked. It was that simple. Mama was right that they were about as worthless as old Confederate money . . . except I couldn't help wanting them to get their heads out of their asses.

My patience wore thinner and thinner over the next few weeks as Killer healed. I snapped at any and everyone who crossed my path. Even Aubrey wasn't safe from my moods of late. It was just like when we were kids again in some ways. Killer was the peacekeeper, the one person who seemed to be able to tell me to rein in my increasingly volatile temper.

Tonight I was stuck sitting at the bar with Noah, and this time neither Killer nor Aubrey was there to help me avoid losing my temper. Worse still, Alamo had walked out not twenty minutes after we'd arrived. Sometimes I wanted to round everyone up who was making my head ache and then one after the next line them up and have a “come to Jesus” talk with each and every one of them.

Tonight I'd start with Noah.

He shot me sideways looks, pulling his attention from the bartender for a moment here or there. She wasn't as good as Mike or even as good as Aubrey had become, but she was sweet and available. That meant Noah was going to take a run at her.

It used to be that he didn't do that in front of me. Maybe this meant he was finally accepting the truth of our new situation. I wondered if there was any good way to ask him that without him misunderstanding. This was the trouble with sleeping with friends: it made returning to friendship-only status awkward.

“You okay, Ellie?” he asked in a low voice, one far too familiar for my liking.

“Always.” I sipped my drink and smiled. I didn't want to fight, not really, not again. I
wanted
him to ask me how we got so messed up, maybe apologize for being so damn stupid. As it was, I had the sneaking suspicion that he'd scared off several guys on campus who had seemed interested in me at first, but then suddenly vanished. They obviously weren't keepers if one biker—no matter how much he scowled—could send them running, but still, I wished we could get past this.

“Something happen?” Noah pressed when I kept my silence.

I shook my head.

He stared at me for several moments. We both knew I was lying. I'd done a lot of that lately. It wasn't a solution, but I wasn't left with a lot of choices. If I wanted to be around Aubrey and Killer, that meant dealing with Noah. If I wanted to not argue, that meant accepting Noah's refusal to talk about what we
weren't
anymore. It meant pretending we'd only ever been friends. That was the only way I knew to carry on without fighting.

“You're quieter than normal lately, Ellie,” Noah said, pressing again. “Did something happen?”

“I was just surveying the options.”

Noah narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

“Don't be like that,” I said with a nudge. “It's not like either of us are having any fun sitting here watching them dance.”

I nodded to the dance floor where Killer and Aubrey were all entwined like lovesick puppies. I was happy for them, but sitting here with Noah was harder than usual. Idly I asked Noah, “Did Alamo say if he was coming back?”

“Does it matter?” Noah asked, a familiar edge to his voice.

“Maybe.” I wasn't scared of Noah. Sure, he
could
be a bit intimidating, but even now that we were barely speaking, I knew that deep down he was still my friend. Maybe dating a biker would help clarify things—not that I really needed another excuse to want to see Alamo.

He was another mystery, though. Any attempt I made to talk to him was thwarted. I repressed a grin at a stray thought of putting both Noah and Alamo in a room and explaining that I was well over Noah and was intrigued by Alamo. Wouldn't
that
just be fun for everyone?

“I thought we had a no-friends rule,” Noah said.

Quietly, because there were always people listening at the bar, I said, “You offered ‘friends with benefits' to Aubrey months ago. She asked for my advice about it.” I shrugged. “I figured our old rules expired when we stopped . . . whatever we were doing.”

“Whatever we were doing?” Noah echoed. “That's what we're calling it now?”

I hadn't been trying to start this conversation, but I was tiring of ignoring it. So I kept going, “They were stupid rules anyhow. We were kids. It's not like what we had mattered . . . and Alamo's not exactly your
friend
. From what I can see, he barely tolerates conversation with you.”

Noah ignored the point, as he always did lately, and said, “That thing with Aubrey wasn't a big deal, anyhow. I wasn't going to ever stand a chance with someone like her.”

My mouth opened in shock, but I didn't know the words to explain how rude he was. Sure, Aubrey was beautiful, but I wasn't exactly fugly and he'd stood a chance with
me
. Any urge to be gentle with his feelings vanished.

“Fuck you. Seriously, just . . . fuck you, Noah,” I said.

“Whoa! I didn't know you were getting to be good friends with her when that happened. You know I don't mess with your friends, and you don't mess with mine. The rule stands. We had a spat, and then she was there while you were mad at me. I didn't mean to make you angri
er
by chatting her up . . . and nothing happened anyhow, not really. I don't know how long I'm to be doing penance for whatever pissed you off before her, or if that was added to my sentence or what's happened in between, but that doesn't mean anything changed about
us
.”

I stared at him in blatant shock. “You don't think anything has changed?”

He shrugged.

“We're
done
, Noah. We were done months ago. I didn't walk out like we were fighting. There was no penance. I left you. What we were doing was toxic. I deserve better than that. We both do. Maybe you don't want it right now, but someday you will. Maybe that's why you noticed Aubrey. You started realizing that you could have an actual relationship and that meant looking at someone new and—”

“That wasn't what happened with her,” he started.