Page 132 of Chaotic Curse
“The docs say you’re stable,” I say.“You scared the shit out of me, Eagle.Out of everyone.”
He breathes slow, eyes half-closed.“I hate hospitals.”
“Me too.”
He tries to talk.I lift a hand.“Me first.”
He shuts his mouth.Waits.
“I’m sorry.”The words come out fast, low, like I’m afraid they’ll run away if I don’t catch them quick.“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone that night.You called me.You were going through something and I wasn’t there.And then—” I look at the bandage on his arm.The IV in the back of his hand.“And I didn’t answer the door.Then all that coke was sitting right there in my car.Like a dare.Like I set the table and walked away.I set you up to fail.That’s on me.I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head.“No.”
“Yeah,” I push.“Youchose to relapse.I get that.That’s yours.But I should’ve been there to keep you from making that choice in the first place.I should’ve answered.I should’ve?—”
“Hawk.”He opens his eyes fully now.They’re bloodshot.“No.”
Silence presses in.The machines keep humming.
He works his jaw.Swallows.It looks like it hurts.“You don’t…understand.”
“Then help me.”I tighten my hand on the rail.“Tell me.”
He looks to the ceiling and back to me.“I didn’t take it.”
He didn’t take it?Didn’t take what?“What?”I finally say.
“The coke.”His voice is barely a whisper.“I didn’t take it.”
“Eagle—”
“I didn’t even know the coke was in your truck still.”
My mind whirls.What the hell is my brother saying?Of course he took it.He was relapsing, and I should have been there for him.Been there to stop him.
“I was injected.”He licks cracked lips.“By force.”
For a beat, I don’t move.Don’t breathe.The room tilts a fraction, the way a plane does when it hits a crosswind.Then everything inside me goes very, very still.
Injected.
By force.
I look at the tape on his forearm again.I never looked too closely before—it was just a reminder of my failure as his older brother.But now that I’m investigating closely, there’s bruising there.Not the neat kind you get when a nurse says, “little poke.”The kind that blooms when someone doesn’t care how much it hurts.There’s another mark near his shoulder under the edge of the gown.Finger-shaped shadows at his bicep.Old?New?It doesn’t matter.My stomach drops.
“Who?”I finally ask.“Who did this to you?”
He closes his eyes.Opens them again.“Don’t…know.”He breathes.Winces.“Two.Maybe three.Black van.A garage, I think.Thought I heard…music.They put a hood on me.Tied me.Quick.”He swallows.“Then a sting.Then…nothing.”
My hand is on the rail so hard my knuckles ache.For a flash of a second I see Reyes’s face.Then I push past it.Haynes.Dead.The chocolate.The note.The grenade.The flowers.A long chain of men who like to work in shadows.It all tries to crowd in.I hold it back with my teeth.
“When?”I ask.
“Same night.”He breathes out.“I called you first.Left you a…message.”A ghost of a smile twitches at his mouth.“You didn’t pick up.”
The knife inside me twists into my gut.
“I know.”I make the words steady by force.“That one’s mine.”
