Page 46

When we pulled up in front of the hospital, Daisy reached over the seat and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll probably be here for a while, why don’t you two get some rest. I can call you when we are released.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, or the number. The poor thing was so frazzled she almost forgot her handbag.

“Would you mind?” I gestured toward the parking area rather than the exit.

“Nawl. I ain’t got nowhere to be at this hour.” Cole smiled and carefully navigated into a space.

“I can’t even imagine how them boys must feel. Eric and… what was the other one's name?”

“Anthony,” Cole offered.

“Yes, that’s it.” I fidgeted with my long skirt, my thoughts drifting, until I finally fixed my gaze on him.

“What?” He lightly chuckled.

“Why doesn’t she like you? Your club, I mean?”

Cole cleared his throat and glanced toward the hospital entrance as if checking for Daisy. He didn’t immediately open up, rather he ran a thumbnail over the steering wheel as if he were seeking the right words.

“Daisy and my brother, they used to be an item.”

“He hurt her?” I caught myself and shook my head, “It’s none of my business.”

“He went to war, and he didn’t come back.”

I gave a knowing nod, already regretting my curiosity, “Yeah, I have a few uncles like that. They weren’t never the same, their mind still over there.”

“No.” The word quickly rolled off his tongue, “I mean, he ain’t come back. He was a prisoner of war, and she was just a young girl waiting on him. I think, maybe in her heart she done grieved him for dead, I imagine there were a lot of emotions and– Well, just chaos with a mess like that.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d heard tales of men being across enemy lines, everyone had, but I’d never actually met anyone who had been a prisoner of war.

“He didn’t seem–” My cheeks reddened and I looked away, placing my fingers lazily over my cheek and lips as if it’d help me from blurting out every stupid thought.

“Seem what?” That humor carried on his tone.

“No, it was– It was a stupid thing to even suggest. I– my mouth sometimes, it just drips every thought before I can filter it.”

“Maybe, but what was the question?”

I shook my head, but he wouldn’t stop staring at me.

“I don’t know, in the movies people who go through that are– Well, they struggle and…”

“You mean why doesn’t he appear post-traumatic?”

“I– no. Of course, all illnesses can’t be seen. It was foolish to say.”

“It wasn’t,” he denied, his demeanor calm and unoffended. “Carl is high-functioning or whatever the doctors and shrinks call it. He was a live wire for some time, but he seemed to stay away until things were manageable. Don’t be fooled, though, my brother will be a soldier until he dies, he just learned to pick his battles accordingly these days.”

I smiled, suddenly seeing Carl, or Montana as they called him, in a bit of a new light. Afterall, he had been one of the milder Disciples, as best I could tell.

“Will your disciples be having another event anytime soon?”

He hefted his brows and cocked his head, “I’m sure there will be something going on tonight, on account of losing Chef.”

“Oh, right.”