Page 87 of Love Thy Brother
“I was a soldier long before he got here.”
“I know—” Saint coughed, and frustration locked his face up.
Whatever he wanted to say was gone.
Rubi appeared with mugs. He put something herbal in Saint’s hand and builder’s brew in mine.
He came back with coffee for Alexei and more tea for himself, dropping into the seat opposite.
Honest to God, this game of musical chairs was starting to spin my head. Didn’t anyone stay in one place anymore?
“River.” Saint claimed my attention again. He waited for me to focus, then leaned closer. “If you’re gonna ride with us again, I gotta know where your head’s at. You want this? Really? After all this fucking time?”
In my peripheral, Rubi folded his arms on the table and dumped his head on them. I felt his gaze on me, but I didn’t look at him. “I want it to be over—the bullshit with the garage, and whatever the fuck else is going on—and I can’t sit back and let the rest of you make that happen for me.”
“That’s your reason?” Scepticism danced in Saint’s green eyes, a cynicism I deserved.
The weed started to wear off. The mellowness I didn’t naturally wear faded with it and the fury I’d walked in with returned. The fear that made up its foundations.I can’t lose him.“My reason is the same as yours has been every time some fucker has tried to kill Cam. If I need to explain that to you, then maybe you’re the one who needs an emotional dissection before he goes to fucking war.”
War.
My head spun for real this time. We weren’t there yet, but I’d seen worse things happen from smaller catalysts. And I knew what Saint was really asking.Am I ready for that?Every day of my life was a fight, one way or another, but it had been a long time since I’d tooled up and spilled blood.
Long enough that I expected Rubi to speak up. To counter me harder than Saint ever would.
His silence distracted me from whatever Saint was thinking.
I let my gaze drift to him. His head was still on his arms, one eye half closed, the other watching me. He looked profoundly tired, as if we’d been at this table twelve hours instead of one.Migraine?It fucking galled me that I couldn’t tell. That we’d drifted so far apart that I wasn’t attuned to every tell and nuance.
Wrap this up. I tore my gaze from Rubi and looked at Saint again. “What I’m saying is that I have every reason I need to fight, and when I’m not off my tits, I’m good at it. You know I am. It’s in my fucking blood.”
Saint’s lips twisted in a wry smile before he levelled me with another piercing stare. “I’m not worried about that. It’s the off-your-tits part. You can’t come into this with a habit. It’s too fucking dangerous.”
“I’m not an addict.”
“You are impulsive and angry,” Alexei said. “And dissatisfied with everything around you. I would think you strange if you did not have a crutch for that.”
“Um... thanks. I think?” I glanced at Rubi for help, but his eyes were closed now, face half hidden by one arm.
Alexei noticed and moved closer to Saint. “I was not being nice. Saint’s concerns are valid. But whatever you are, you’re not stupid. You know any mistakes could get the people you care about killed, so you will not make them.”
“You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am not stupid either.” Alexei nudged Saint to his feet. “Wingman, we need to be somewhere else.”
To me, he held out a brown pill bottle. “These are for Rubi. With food or they won’t stay down. I will be in touch about our other project. Answer when I call.”
I didn’t have a phone, but Alexei checked out of the conversation without waiting for an answer.
He took his laptop and disappeared, leaving me with Saint, who, as much as I’d never been able to predict, had the face of someone who was about to say something I wouldn’t like.
I sipped the hot, sugary goodness Rubi had brought.
Saint eyed me. “Tell me about the car.”
“Hmm?”
“The car that came at you.”
