Page 12 of Wicked Deceit
“Wow, dickhead, way to be a supportive boyfriend-in-law. We’re supposed to cheer each other on, not threaten to throw each other off a cliff,” Chase murmurs through disgust, sending scathing looks toward Carter, who scoffs, waving a hand. He mumbles something else about them all being idiots, and grunts, never taking his eyes off the blue sky.
I shake my head, regretting the damn movement again as pain invades my stiff neck. Sheesh, when will this end? I don’t know how much more of this pain I can take in one sitting. I look back to Zepp, who stands awkwardly before me, fiddling with the hem of his shirt now. Seger stands behind him, keeping him from running away from the guilt clouding around him.
“Why would you think it’s your fault?” I ask hoarsely, reaching a desperate hand out for him so I can feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around mine.
With reluctance, he wraps his fingers around mine, letting me pull him toward the edge of the bed. But he keeps his distance, not getting too close. His worried eyes roam over my body until he connects his misty gaze with mine, and the guilt slams into me with the force of a wrecking ball.
“I didn’t fucking know it would happen,” Carter blurts out of nowhere, pulling my attention away from Zepp. “I had no fucking idea. They were radio silent. I didn’t fucking think…. I didn’t think anything of it.” Carter hangs his head, swallowing hard, as he swims in massive amounts of guilt. “If I were closer to the inside, I would have warned you if they had fucking said something. There’s no way in fuck I would have stood by and let something like this happen to you. I never would.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Sweetheart,” he says with such vulnerability rising in his voice, it chokes me.
“No,” I whisper, taking a deep breath. “You two listen to me. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but the assholes who did this to me. Got it? It wasn’t you or you,” I say, gesturing toward the two guilt-ridden idiots looking towards the ground in shame. “All of you, none of this is your fault….”
It’s my fault—all of it. If I didn’t know the boys, they wouldn't have been involved if I didn’t associate with them. They wouldn’t be crowded around my hospital bed with sadness clouding their eyes or wrinkles on their foreheads. All of this is on me. I knew better than getting involved with anyone while investigating Magnolia’s murder. I should have kept my distance and never mingled with them.
“Don’t you dare say it, Sunshine,” Chase whispers in desperation, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He crawls toward me, shoving his hand into mine, and intertwining our fingers. He squeezes, looking deep into my eyes. “Don’t even think what you’re thinking.”
“But it is,” I whisper back through a shattered voice, breaking into a million pieces. “All of this is my fault.”
All this guilt is crushing, breaking my ribs, and splintering my heart—knowing I put them in danger.ME!I did this to Zepp and Seger. Until now, the Apocalypse hadn’t injured us to this extent. Not like this. It was getting thrown into dumpsters, having goo shoved down my shirt, but not bodily harm—well, maybe the violent diarrhea from the stupid laxative sprinkles, that was definitely bodily harm. I swear my soul left my body that day in the depths of the toilet at school and in my apartment.
“Fucking no,” Carter growls. “It’s their fault, Sweetheart. They’re the ones who hit you... It’s not like you jumped in front of their fucking car and asked for it. None of this is your fucking fault. Don’t make me fuck it out of you, I swear to all things holy,” he growls his entire speech, jumping to his feet and waving his arms around until he stops abruptly. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s fucking mine. I should have fucking known they were up to something. I could have warned you..” he trails off, running a hand over his face, showing off his scabbed knuckles.
“They drugged you and me, I think. I vaguely remember them pushing needles into your necks and then mine.” I grimace, running my fingers over the throbbing spots on my neck, confirming to myself that that’s where the puncture wound is, when I feel the raised up skin beneath my fingers. “And then they beat my face in and dragged me out of the car and fucking broke my arm. I think…..” I scrunch my nose out of instinct, instantly regretting the action when the excruciating pain explodes through my face. I wince, trying to hold back the hiss of pain escaping through my clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry, back the fuck up. They fucking drugged you? THE FUCK?” Carter’s angry shouts echo off the walls, hopefully not drawing any attention to us. Carter’s chest heaves, and his fingers curl into tight fists, white-knuckling from the force. He stomps toward me with wicked intent gleaming in his eyes.
I’ve seen Carter angry—at the world or the boys. Or hell, I’ve seen him furious at me, too. But this Carter? This Carter is a whole hell of a lot scarier. And okay, sexier, too. Who knew the whole touch-her-and-die sentiment would be so damn invigorating? His brown eyes scream, ‘I will murder a mother fucker for you.’ And I believe it. In fact, it’s kind of hot to have someone on my side who could take someone down just for me.
“Yeah,” I say, looking over the clunky cast gripping my right arm. “I vaguely remember needles. My neck burned, and God, it hurt, but I can’t be sure. There must be a reason I can’t remember so much, right?”
Carter sits down on my other side, clamping his eyes shut. Deep calming breaths pour from his nose, and he nods, likely counting in his head. “Could be a sedative or something,” he confirms with a sharp head nod.
“They wore creepy masks—that part I remember—just not how many there were or who they were for sure. I can’t remember much.” I lean my head against Chase when he squeezes my fingers in his.
“It’s not your fault, Baby Girl.” Zepp sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, wincing from the pain. I give him a sharp nod, swallowing all this guilt down into the pit of my stomach. If he can’t feel guilty, then neither can I.
“Come here,” I say, waggling a finger at him. He nods again, moving in closer. “Now kiss me so you know there’s nothing to feel guilty over, okay?” I whisper when he leans in, gently touching my face.
Gently, he rests his lips on mine, avoiding the bruises lining my face and his. We finally part, staring into the depths of each other’s eyes. His hurting soul stares back at me, and I get it. We’re all raw and exposed right now. Paper-thin. Bruised and battered, rattled around. But we’ll make it through this. We have to. We have a big bad villain to defeat, and I won’t rest until they’ve gone down.
“Alright!” My mom’s loud voice echoes through the hospital room, announcing her arrival before entering through the door. The boys jump back, rushing to find a spot as far away from me as possible. “I’ve got good news!” Clapping her hands in a golf clap, she walks toward my hospital bed with a grin. Her eyes light up as she watches the boys one by one, a knowing look letting me know she knew what they had been doing. And it wasn’t standing back from me.
“Have a seat, boys. Get comfortable for the rest of the day. I know now that she’s awake, you definitely won’t leave.” She snickers at them as they awkwardly maneuver themselves into the sparse furnishings.
“What’s the news?” I ask, hoping she says we can leave now.
“We’re breaking you out of here on Wednesday. Dr. Spencer says he’d like to keep you here for two full nights since you were out of it for so long, and wants to take extra precautions with your concussion. They’d like to run more tests tomorrow. And after that, I can take you home.” She gives me a tight smile.
“Home, home?” Swallowing hard, l look at the boys watching us with rapt attention.
Seger bounces his leg in anticipation. Chase chews on his bottom lip, plucking nonexistent lint from his wrinkled clothes. Carter stares out the window, a vacant expression darkening his unshaven face. And Zepp stares with wide, glossy eyes, barely keeping his guilt from consuming him.
Mom’s mouth tightens further, her eyes surveying the scene. “I just thought that after what you went through, you’d be more comfortable at home. Besides, Thanksgiving is next week. You’ll be coming home on Sunday, anyway.”
“No,” I blurt louder than necessary. A heavy pressure sits on my heaving chest as the panic digs its claws into me and takes hold. The mere thought of leaving the boys behind while I go home to heal sends my head into a spinning mess, swirling the room into a mass of colors. “Please, Mom, I need to get my things from my apartment, and… and… I don’t want to leave, not yet,” I gasp out, unable to get the rest of my words past my heavy tongue.
The only reassurance I get is when I look at her sympathetic face, and her eyes move from each boy, finally landing on me. A laugh bubbles from her throat as she runs a hand along her forehead and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling with a defeated huff.
“I never won arguments against you,” she mutters, causing one boy to snicker. “Fine, you want to go back to campus?” I nod, and she throws her hands up in defeat, muttering fine.
