Page 54 of Alphas Like Us
“Zero,” I joke. “I feel absolutely amazing. Like I body-swapped with an angel.” I force asmile.
“You look like shit,” he tells me and puts a hand to my damp forehead. His other hand falls to myass.
I make a face. “Pretty sure I look gorgeous, bangable, likehotshit.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, smartass. You sure you don’t want Vicodin or Oxy? Because ibuprofen isn’t cuttingit.”
“I’m alright,” I say more seriously. “I can handle it.” With a family history of addiction, I don’t want to mess with any addictive painkillers. It’s a personal choice that my dad and my uncle have made before. Though, I’m weighing my sanity because this isn’t acakewalk.
Farrow combs his hand through his hair again. “Truthfully, I hate seeing you in this much pain. You understand that’s why you’resweating?”
I nod a couple times. “But it’s also hot in theattic.”
Farrow reluctantly pulls away from me. Just to reach the thermostat attached to the brick wall. Near mydresser.
I sink down on the bed. With my right arm imprisoned to my chest, I use my left to scoot back against the headboard. Gauze is taped to my right collarbone, and I haven’t peeled it back to check the stitchesyet.
I’m about to ask about my cousins and my siblings, but I hear the old stairs creaking. People are coming uphere.
Farrow nears the bed. “I’m going to get a fan and an ice pack. Need anything else, wolfscout?”
He’s the only one who really ever asks me that. But I can’t forget how he was in the crash too. How he had to talk to a porn star at the auction, how he apparently sold hismotorcyclefor me, how he’s given me sodamnmuch—and he deserves every goodthing.
“I’m alright,” I say. “You needanything?”
Farrow smiles at me like I stole his line, but he rubs his bottom lip with his thumb and tells me, “For right now, I’m good. No one’s crying, no one’sdying.”
Life moveson.
I nod, and he walks backwards and taps the doorframe like he’d rather stay longer. But he turns and leaves. From the stairwell, I hear Farrow say, “Walrus, you littlebastard.”
Not long after, a calico cat darts into the attic and leaps onto my bed. Walrus nudges my foot with his furry head, but I can’t reach out to scratch him—I look up at anoise.
Charlie raps the doorframe with his crutch. Music still booms downstairs, so I’m assuming more family must be hanging out at mytownhouse.
“Hey,” I say, surprised to see him. But the Charlie Cobalt Disappearing Act has been dying down since the FanCon. “How’s theleg?”
Charlie supports his weight on both crutches and comes closer. His entire right leg is bound in a white cast, and he rolled his sweats to histhigh.
I seriously can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Charlie insweatpants.
“I don’t know,” Charlie answers and lowers on my bed. Sitting near me, he leans his crutches on my end table. “I’m too high to feel anything.” He scans my black and blue abs, sweat beaded up on myskin.
“I’m okay,” I tellhim.
“Swallow a Vicodin, Moffy. There is a list of weak people in our families who’d drown in a craving, and you’re not one ofthem.”
I tense at that backhanded compliment. He just called my parents weak and whoever else he’s pinpointed as vulnerable to addiction. I shake my head oninstinct.
Charlie arches a mocking brow. “The world will still see you as noble and gallantif you take apainkiller.”
I let out a laugh. “Christ, Charlie. This isn’t me being performative. I’m not trying to gain sympathy or kudos. You have no fucking clue how afraid I am…” I trail off and sit up a bit more, grimacing. Hating that my right hand isrestricted.
Charlie said that I’m not on his list ofweak people. But I don’t know if I am strong enough to beat a craving. And I don’t want to find out. My dad and my uncle have made the same decision as me withpainkillers.
Alcoholism runs in the Hale and Meadows families. You knowthat.
Everyone knowsthat.
