Page 3 of Together We Burn
He scoffed and held them up placatingly, taking a step back.
"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. You're still recovering, Stevie. There’s no harm in accepting help." He sighed and tugged at his mussed-up brown hair.
I rubbed at my face in frustration. I understood Alex’s overbearing nursing was coming from a good place, and the doctor did say I was making a fast recovery, but it wasn't quick enough. I had to get back to being the old me like yesterday. No, I needed to become Stevie 2.0; bigger and badder than the old one who was stupid enough to fall for her target and get played.
“I see you’re putting yourget-well-soonpresent to good use,” he said, walking toward my makeshift pinboard and inspecting my handiwork. “Love the redecorating you’ve done. Your room was definitely missing the stabby vibe your personality gives off.”
Throwing one of my many pillows, I laughed through the tug against my ribs and moaned, “Dick. That hurt.”
Alex collected my blades from the wall and floor, brought them over to the bed, and placed them back in the black box they belonged to. Snorting, he shook the box, making the twenty small metal knives clink together.
“Normal people get chocolates or flowers,” he mused, setting the box down and beaming at me with amusement. “You get throwing knives.”
“I’m not normal, Alex. You know this,” I stated blankly, picking one up and throwing it at the wall without looking. Alex whistled and bobbed his head.
“That you are not,” he agreed with a laugh and wide eyes as he appreciated my impeccable aim. My shot had gone straight between Jake’s eyes.
“Have you spoken to Chris lately?” I asked, changing the subject. Absently, I picked up my phone and flipped it in my hand, even though I knew I didn’t have her number. We’d agreed years ago I would not be able to contact her or know where she was living in case someone wanted to use her to hurt me. I couldn’t afford to have anyone I cared about close to me, not in my line of work. Well, anyone that wasn’t the Jones brothers.
A few days after I woke, Alex had replaced my old phone, which presumably was still in Jake’s apartment. Out of habit, I pulled up the call log that showed no incoming or outgoing calls, and if I was anyone else, I might have been bothered that no one wanted to check on me following my altercation.
Alex’s eyes softened as he watched me set my phone face down on the bed.
“I got her a burner phone the day we got you back. I speak to her every other day; she’s fine, Stevie. But you know you can’t reach out. Not right now. It isn’t safe.” I nodded and didn’t miss the slight blush that crept across his cheeks. “But she’s good and misses you.”
“Yeah? I doubt that. Maybe you, but not me.”
“You’re her big sister; how can she not miss you?”
“I haven’t texted or called her in eleven years, Alex. If anything, I’m a stranger to her now.” That stung—more than it should.
Alex rubbed the back of his neck as he did whenever he was uncomfortable and grumbled something under his breath. Having enough of my pity party for one, I swivelled my legs to dangle off the edge of the bed and reached to pat Rocky’s soft head as he sat by Alex's feet. The two had been watching me like they were a united pair and had taken it upon themselves to nanny me.
Fisting my hands, and with a deep breath, I pushed down into the mattress and made to stand up. I watched Alex's trainer-clad feet step closer and pause.
"Just let me try, Alex," I growled through clenched teeth, though it was more in pain than annoyance at my overprotective friend. "I need to do things myself, or it will take me longer to get back to normal."
Conceding, albeit reluctantly, he stepped back and watched as I straightened to my full height. Relief with a side of triumph crossed my face–standing had been a feat in itself when I got up to make my wall shrine last night.
I walked over to my desk and grabbed a long, fluffy orange bathrobe from the chair, gently pulling the soft cotton over my arms and fastening the belt loosely around my waist. Glancing at the round mirror sitting in the middle of the table, I noted the dark circles lining my eyes and the dullness of my complexion. The girl staring back wasn’t me. She looked weak, broken, pathetic. I snarled at her before pushing the bottom of the mirror to remove myself from the frame.
We walked silently to the living room, practically feeling the eggshells being crunched into the hardwood, the way Alex awkwardly followed behind me, ready to pander to my every need. His hand hovered near my arm to assist me if necessary as I lowered myself onto the sofa, but I slapped it away and let myself fall with a soft thud.
God, I hated this. I didn’t need to be coddled.
I didn’t feel like the lioness I’d always thought myself to be; bold, strong, and fierce, with a roar that could make grown men piss themselves. I was more like a kitten with a tiny pitiful meow. As soon as I could get back to training, I was going to wrap myself in a chrysalis, much like a caterpillar, and metamorphosize into a mighty dragon.
“No nature shows.”
I groaned at the stupid internal monologue incorrectly comparing a bug with a mythical creature as Alex turned on the TV and passed me the remote with a confused look on his face.
“I wasn’t going to make you watch one,” he replied, baffled. “I was going to make you some coffee.”
Well, that made me feel like a dick.
Alex left the room, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and listening to the lowthump-thumpof Netflix coming to life.
Suddenly, my eyes flew open, and I gasped. "My car!"
