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Recovering from my mental deep dive, I look over my shoulder at the sound of feet shuffling over carpet. Doc comes in behind us carrying a medical bag and wearing a grim expression. “I told you he’d be ripped through those stitches before long.”
“Just stitch them back up, Doc, and give me some more of those pills.”
“Fuck that.” Rage is by the door ready to leave when Hark’s words pull him back in. “I’m not letting you get hooked on that trash. Doc should know better.”
I look at Hark’s face and can’t bear the stricken expression of pain. He’s pale again. Even in the low light I can see the tremble in his body. But it’s the wavering of his voice that I zero in on. For as long as I have known the man, he’s never sounded like the weight of the world pressed on his shoulder. But right now, the cracked vowels and strained consonants pull at my heartstrings.
He’s suffering from far more than the physical wounds. Deeper problems lie just beneath the surface and there is not a damn thing I can do to help him. Not until he talks to me.
I reach out and move long strands of hair from his forehead and turn his face toward me and lower my voice. “You’re going to be fine okay. You’re not alone.” Not right now anyway. I know I can’t stay forever so I take comfort in knowing right here, right now I can do for him.
My hands move of their own accord. I should be dropping him off and running for the door, but I find myself lacing my fingers with his cold ones. Scars crisscross the expanse of his large knuckles. Years of fighting his way through life reflect on his body.
Rage reaches into Hark’s pocket and palms the bottle of painkillers.
Doc pushes to his feet and it looks like round two is about to happen.
Whoa. Hark and I both turn a shocked look toward the men standing shit-kickers to shit-kickers.
“I think you need to take a step back before I have another patient in need of stitches. I know how to administer drugs to those under my care. Not abuse them.”
Rage takes a step back as if the Doc personally fed him five knuckles. What is going on there? Exposed nerve much.
“Knock it the fuck off. If I want the pain pills, I’ll take them. Right now, just stitch this shit up so I can get some sleep. Rage, give the bottle to Asena. She can keep them for me and give them as needed. Good?”
It looks like Rage is about to argue, but one look from me and the bottle is tossed in my direction. “That shit ruins lives. Don’t let him sweet talk you outta them.”
“No one talks me into anything.” I leave out Hark’s alleyway ultimatum.
I hold Rage’s hard stare and let him see the truth to my words. I guess he likes what he sees because all I get in return is a stiff nod.
Without saying more on the topic, I can tell the weariness in his eyes is from substance abuse. You learn a lot when forced into a wallflower position. People forget you are in the room.
My father became an expert at it and I mastered the art of observing. Questions I have no right to ask come to mind, but I store them away for another time. I know a thing or two about personal torment and wouldn’t appreciate a total stranger digging around in my past asking pesky questions.
“I’ll take care of him,” I say and I mean it. It’s the least I can do for the man who has taken a bullet for me twice now.
I watch his retreating back. Sandy-blond hair falls over those untrusting eyes when Rage turns to look at me one more time. I get the feeling he cares more about the people around him than he’s given credit for. These men are all dealing with pain. Some more than others. But how they haven’t killed each other yet seems like next-level miracles happening in my book.
It takes twice as long as the first time to get Hark’s stitches redone. When the final bandage is in place, I walk the Doc to the door. I spent the last forty-five minutes eyeing the bathroom daydreaming about a shower and a new set of clothes.
I smile up at the Doc ready to faceplant into the nearest pillow. In fact, I might just strip and leave the shower for the morning. A dark room and a minimum of twelve hours of uninterrupted silence sound like pure heaven.
“Have you told him?”
Doc pitches his voice low but my heart lurches and shoots a heavy dose of adrenaline into my system, jacking me wide awake. Frowning, I push him farther out the door. “Do you mind?” I admonish in a quiet voice. “Do I need to remind you of the promise you made?” I’ll fight dirty if pushed.
Apprehension fills me when all I get back is a blank expression and fierce eyes. “There’s a limit to a man’s patience. I kept my end of the deal. At the time it made sense. But if you’re going to be in his life, he needs to know.”
As in if I don’t tell him, he will. I don’t need it spelled out for me in crayon.
Does this man butt into everyone’s business?
I gaze over my shoulder to thankfully find a still Hark lying with his eyes closed.
My heart unclenches. “And when do you think I’ve had the time? You act like I’m here to stay for good. Sorry, Doc. I’m not.”
“He’s been through enough betrayal. Give him something to live for.”
