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He squeezes me harder, pressing me close. “He's fine. Beat up and worn out, but he's fine. You were in worse shape. He just looks like someone threw him into a spin cycle with a bunch of rocks.”
“Tell me what happened. I remember him telling me he had to try to swim for help, and then…” I shake the cobwebs out of my head but it just leaves holes, not memories. “I have bits and pieces but I don’t know what was real or not.”
His eyes snag on where I’m pulling the blanket up to cover my breasts. “Fuck, you're gorgeous. Anyway, Reaper managed to crawl out in Grant Park. He climbed out of the water bare-ass naked and convinced some yuppie mom to lend him his phone. The club got on the fucking road and me, Scrapper and some of the boys managed to get down to you. I gotta say, you fucking terrified us. You were out cold and I had no idea if you were alive or dead until we got down to you.”
I pull the blankets up around me. I remember all too well curling up on the cement and closing my eyes, not knowing if I’d ever open them again.
“We got you, baby,” he says softly. “Doc—who before you freak out, is actually a fucking doctor and not just a nickname—looked you over. He thinks you got water in your lungs, and it should clear up with antibiotics. Not a shock that it fucked you up. Long River is sketchy enough normally, and it’s extra chunky after the rain.”
“Blegh.” I can almost smell and taste it clinging to me.
“How're you feeling?”
“A little woozy. Still waking up. Other than that, not great, but a lot better now that I don’t think we’re all dying.”
“The day’s still young,” Mack says before wincing. “Forget that. You need to rest. Scrapper's mom heard there was an accident and you guys fell in the river. She came by with a fucking bucket of chicken soup. I swear to God, Chef acted like she was trying to take over. It was fucking hilarious.”
Homemade soup? Just the thought of it makes me realize it’s probably been a day since I last ate. “That sounds amazing. I'm starving.”
“Good.” He pulls a pot out of a cabinet and puts it on a hot plate in the kitchenette.
That gets me wondering where I even am. I look around curiously. “Is this your room?”
It looks pretty much like Scrapper’s room, but too empty for anyone to live in it. There’s nothing but the bed in the corner, a small bathroom ahead of me and a living space with the kitchenette on one end. There's a beat up couch, a coffee table, a couple of chairs, a bookshelf and not much else.
“Mine? Nah. Welcome to your new home, beautiful.”
“What?” But then I notice that it’s my blanket on the bed, my backpack on the couch and my suitcase on the floor. “My phone!” I spot in on the nightstand and snatch it up. There is a crack on the bottom of the screen, but everything still works. I sniffle.
“We made an executive decision while you were out.” He dumps a jar of soup into the pot and starts stirring. “It isn’t good for anybody to have you staying in that apartment. It makes it harder for us to keep an eye on you, and you’re putting your friends in danger. I think we got all your shit, but if you’re missing anything, just let us know.”
“But…” Actually, that all makes sense.
“Love your butt, beautiful.” The room's already starting to smell delicious.
“I know I needed a place, but I was hoping to talk about it before making a decision.”
“Amazing butt. I could play with that ass for days.” He stirs.
“Mack!”
“Mila! Get over it, baby. You’re not a prisoner, and if you really want to leave when this is over, we’ll talk about it.”
I notice that he doesn’t say they’ll agree with it. “My classes?”
“Fortunately for you, two of us still have working bikes.” He tastes the broth with a spoon, adds a little pepper, then gets back to slowly stirring.
“I can't believe you guys.”
The door opens. I yank the covers up to my chin. “Knock please!”
“But then I might not see the view.” Scrapper sits on the bed and pulls me into a careful hug. The covers drop again, but it feels so good to be in his arms that I don't care. “Fuck, I'm glad I can do this again. We thought we were too late. Reaper woulda fucking killed us. I've been wanting to hold you since we got you here, but it seemed creepy while you were asleep.”
“Wait? How long have I been here?”
“Two days, babe.”
“Whaaat?” No wonder I'm feeling woozy and grubby. “I've been in bed for two days?”
