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“Us.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Alexandra
We leave my father hogtied on the floor in a pool of blood, and then we call in the tip; a few hurried words into a receiver while standing outside the storage unit and immediately, a weight lifts from my shoulders; the air is fresher, the light brighter. Smiling, we lock hands, and we walk to Dixon’s bike. He rides behind me, and I take the handlebars, because he’s too wounded to do anything but hold on. I say a silent thanks to Lucas for all he did to teach me how to ride. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to get Dixon to the hospital. I’m going to miss my brother — I always will — but in that moment, the pain I feel thinking about him is different; it’s less visceral, less agonizing. Maybe this is what moving on feels like. It’s the ability to think of someone you loved and lost, and instead of feeling the pain of losing them, there’s the space to be grateful for the time you had with them.
Goodbye, Lucas.
It takes ten minutes to reach the nearest hospital. I pull into the entrance reserved for ambulances, and I scream to high heaven. “I need a doctor, now.”
My voice is so loud that even Dixon, who teeters on the edge of unconsciousness, flinches.
“I’ll be even louder if that’s what it takes to save your life, Dixon,” I snap. “So don’t you give me that look.”
Just as I’m about to uncork a scream that would make a banshee put in earplugs, a man in scrubs steps out of the sliding glass doors and gives us one look.
“Holy shit,” he says.
“Holy shit is right. Get your buddies and get a fucking gurney. Now.”
He runs back inside and returns with several others, and they heft Dixon, who is now nearly unconscious, onto the gurney.
“What happened?” The doctor says.
“He got stabbed saving my life,” I reply.
He gives me a quick look. “You need attention, too.”
“No, thanks. I’m not the attention-seeking type. I do fine on my own.”
“I mean medical attention. Can you walk, or do you need a wheelchair?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s been a fucking day. I just found out my dad’s a drug dealer, and he murdered my brother, so…” I shake my head. “I can walk.”
“God damn, that sounds like hell. Get inside and I’ll have someone come take you to an examination room. We have a psych on staff if you need something to help you cope, too.”
I smile at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I actually feel good. Best I have in years.”
I finally see a light at the end of the dark tunnel I’ve been stuck in for years, and each second that I’m alive is another second that lovely light gets closer. I can’t wait for that day.
“I’ll send them by anyway. Just in case.”
I shrug. I doubt I’ll need it, but maybe I’ll get a Xanax or two, just for shits and giggles. “Fine. Thank you.”
They wheel Dixon away, and I walk into the hospital under my own power. Head high, shoulders straight; it hurts like hell, but, in a twisted way, I’m proud. It’s over.
Now, I can finally heal.
I’ve barely seen the triage nurse before the Steel Reapers arrive. Several nurses on the floor give them sideways looks, but it doesn’t seem to faze any of the Reapers. When I spot Ghost, as the nurse is taking me to an examination room to be treated and stitched up, I wave him over. There’s a tired look on his face, but a sly smile, too.
“Sir, you can’t be back here,” the nurse says, interposing herself between Ghost and the door.
If you want to stand in Ghost’s way, good luck, lady. In order to stop a cheerful, bloody massacre, I step between the two of them.
“It’s OK, nurse. He’s family,” I say.
“You’re related?” She says.
