Page 106 of Reacher
“Jesus!Where the hell did you come from?”
“Existentially, you mean?”
He snorted, and walked around me.
“I’m uh… Torch and Has are with Ice now.”
I followed him as he headed into the bar area, and ordered a coffee. I joined him on one of the stools, and nodded my head at Tommy. At least here I could get a coffee without Ally lecturing me.
“Hey, brother. We need to talk,” I started, and Stitch heaved a sigh, shaking his head.
“Ice is doing fine. Probably be out in a day or so, I reckon, and everything else is in hand. All ticking over like a well-oiled machine.” His tone wasn’t right. It was flat and lifeless. It definitely wasn’t like him at all.
“Fuck all of that. Talk to me.”
He rubbed a hand down his beard.
“Like I said, everything is fine, Pres. Although you’re about to be pissed off.” He called me Pres, and he hardly ever did that. Did I need more reasons to think something serious was wrong?
Tommy approached with drinks, sliding a coffee in front of Stitch, and then me.
“About what?”
Stitch laughed, and waved Tommy away, and I noticed the prospect moved fast.
“Enjoy your decaf.”
“What the fuck!”
He sniggered, and cradled his mug in his hands. He was quiet, thoughtful, and while that wasn’t unlike him, there was something else. Defeat? Grief?
“Brother, let me help. What can I do?”
Stitch looked at me then, and his face showed a flash of fear before he swallowed, and waved a hand at me.
“Don’t even worry, brother. Everything’s fine. I uh… I need to get back to my room, and sort some shit out. I’ll catch you later.” He was up and walking away before I could even react.
I grabbed his coffee, despite Tommy hurrying over with a look of terror on his face.
“It’s okay, I’m taking it to Stitch. You can stand down, prospect.” Tommy grimaced.
“I’m sorry, Pres. I’m under orders from Stitch, and it’s for your health. I can’t disobey.”
I felt bad for him for a brief moment, because it was an awful position for a club member to be in, but I glared anyway, because nobody should stand between a man and proper coffee. I grudgingly grabbed my ugh, decaf, and headed after Stitch. No more hiding from me. He was about to talk.
I didn’t knock, just used my elbow to push the handle down on his door, and walked in, both drinks in hand. He was sitting on his sofa, head in hands, and cursed quietly.
“Is this your revenge for me walking in on you before?”
I smirked, kicking the door closed, before I sat beside him, putting both drinks on the table. He didn’t move.
“Brother… what’s going on?”
He let out a heavy, slightly ragged, sigh.
“Jesus… I don’t want…fuck… the second I say this, it’s real. I’m not ready for it to be fucking real.”
Hell. I didn’t want it to be real either, because whatever the hell it was, he was losing his shit over it.
