Silence ate away at the hours as hope devoured my fears.

Together, with Lainey holding me up, we waited for word on Dylan.

Bree sat across from us, lost to some unnamed place, eyes saturated with tears.

We sat frozen, like empty glass jars, on the cracked leather benches of the hospital waiting room, ready to fall and shatter into sharp shards across the floor.  The voices of the deputies drifted past my ears as they asked questions that I swore Lainey was not giving straight answers to. Somehow, filled Styrofoam cups of coffee appeared like magic in my hands.   Bree began pacing after two hours and Lainey was the only person who could speak the scientific language those asinine doctors spoke each time they came out with updates.

I sat, unmoving; way past the hour when my coffee turned cold until a smooth outstretched hand touched my chin and lifted my head to meet with pale green eyes.  “Dylan is doing well.  He’s in recovery right now.  He’s going to be fine.”  Her fingers squeezed my chin, almost painfully, “Do you hear me, Kade?  He’s fine.”  Her eyes filled with thick fat tears that fell from long lashes, and her lips smiled wide.

She saved my brother’s life.  Dylan is not dead.

I crushed her body against mine and sighed in relief, breathing her in.  She trembled slightly in my arms and repeated her words softly, “He’s fine.”

We stayed throughout the early morning hours and the next day, until Dylan was able to have visitors and despite all of the tubes and machines, he made horrible jokes about seeing the light and getting kicked out of heaven before he could even step in.  Seeing him laugh so soon after being shot was euphoric, like a kid at Christmas.  The surgeons kept explaining to us how lucky he had been that the bullet in his chest hadn’t pierced a lung and that the bandages Lainey used on his arm saved it from being amputated.  They couldn’t stop saying how Lainey saved his life, and she just nodded and smiled softly like it wasn’t a big deal and sat in the corner of the room quietly.

I watched her battle her eyelids to stay open; the war was a fierce one that she almost lost a number of times.  Exhaustion settled over her features, and I offered to drive her car back to the trailer so she could wash up and change.  She had been sitting in the emergency room covered in my brother’s blood. She had to get my brother’s blood off her. I couldn’t stand seeing her with so much blood all over her; I wanted to wash it off her myself, find her beautiful smooth skin beneath.

She didn’t fight me on it, just stood up, kissed a sleeping Dylan on the forehead, spread a blanket over Bree who was fast asleep next to his hospital bed, and trudged out of the room.  As soon as her ass was in the passenger seat, she passed out cold; I even had to buckle her in.

The drive back was silent; my thoughts though, were anything but.  Nothing made sense to me.  Why hadn’t she freaked out?  How was she so calm?  And how did she spread that calmness to me?  How did she do everything she did? Why did she have those bandages?  Did she have to take a CPR class because she was a waitress?  Shit, I wasn’t stupid, I knew there was seriously more to it, I just wasn’t ready to admit anything yet, but a waitress she was not.  And whose Porsche was this? 

I woke her softly as soon as I pulled into her driveway, but when she opened her eyes and looked past me, I knew something was wrong.  Her eyes were full of tears and I snapped my head in the direction she’d been staring.

The door to her trailer was torn off the hinges, broken in two and thrown against the stairs, like a child’s toy that had been long forgotten. Vile, demoralizing words had been painted in neon spray paint across the front of the tiny white trailer.  Bitch. Cunt. You’re going to die.

With no regard for her safety, Lainey was out of the car and rushed through the ransacked trailer.  “Lainey, stop, it’s too fucking dangerous!” I called after her.

She ran in anyway and I fumbled like a madman out of the car after her.  Instantly, she had my brother’s gun in her hands, and stepped through the open doorway, surveying the room, as you’d see a police officer do on a crime show.

Windows were shattered, broken in, as if someone had taken a baseball bat to them, and glistening shards of glass littered the rocky ground.  Running up the wooden steps, I stopped just inside the threshold of the doorway and watched Lainey sink to her knees, surrounded by the mess of debris that used to be her cozy little home. “Clear,” she yelled out loud in a haunted voice, but I had a strange feeling she wasn’t really talking to me.

Dirt and mud caked the furniture that was all bashed and battered across the floor.  Piles of what smelled like fucking shit towered over her tabletop and across her walls written in thick red ketchup, or some sort of morbid looking sauce, were the words: Peek-A-Boo-Samantha-I see you.  Deep beneath all of it was some rancid smell of decay.  I gathered my arms around her kneeling form, as if in prayer, and lifted her off the repulsive floor.  Cradling her in my arms, I carried her to the bedroom and sat her on the bed.  “Pack a bag for yourself and Bree. Take anything that’s important, I’m calling the police.”

“NO!”

“Are you fucking serious right now?  Look at your trailer!”

“I can’t…get the police involved.”

Sitting on her bed, I pulled her into my arms and held her, let the world fix its-fucking-self, my brain shut to autopilot and I brought her closer, nestling her against my chest.  I’ll just take her home with me, protect her.

After a few moments, she untangled herself from my arms and began rummaging through drawers, shoving clothes into a large duffel bag. “What hotels are near that hospital?”

“Come home with me,” I whispered.

“Shut up, Kade.”

“Fuck you, Lainey, or whoever the fuck you are.  You think after all this shit that I’ll let you out of my sight?  Fuck you.”

“This isn’t a game!  Just shut up.  Just shut the fuck up!” She slung the duffel bag over her shoulder, grabbed what looked like a computer bag from under her bed, and rushed for the door.

Before she could get past me, I kicked the door closed, and backed her up against a wall filled with craters of broken plaster.  Slamming my hands on the walls on both sides of her head, I wedged her against the wall and my body, ensuring the fact that she wasn’t getting away.  She could fucking shoot me for all I cared.

Grabbing hold of her face with a tight grip, I tried to make myself perfectly clear.  “You are coming home with me.”

Without warning, a slap hit my face that stung like a bitch, “Don’t put me in a corner, Grayson, my fucking claws will come out.”

My fingers tightened around her chin, making her eyes narrow in challenge.

Her hand shot out for another slap, but I caught it in my fist, tangled her fingers with mine and pressed my forehead to hers.  I felt her rage, it rolled off her in strong waves, and I took it, crushing my body against her and covering her mouth with mine.  What traitorous vessels our bodies are to fold into each other with violence, melt into each other in danger and anger.  Her lips opened to mine and I slipped in, never wanting to leave the heat of her breath, but I had to, I did, just long enough to say, “You.  Are.  Staying.  With.  Me.”

From one of her pockets the shrill electronic beeps of a cell phone screamed out.  I pulled away from her, allowing her to take the call.

“Hey, Bree.  Everything okay?  Yeah, you were both sleeping and Kade drove me home.”

She listened to the reply, eyes fixed on mine.  I took the bags and started walking to the door to put them in the car.

“That’s great.  Yes.  Yes.  Okay.”  She gave a small sigh.  “Listen, we can’t stay at the trailer, someone broke into it…Yeah, it’s bad, looks like something out of Scarface…” She started to explain, and then closed herself in the small bathroom to finish the rest of the conversation without me hearing, but I was out of the trailer anyway, getting ready to take her out of there.

The drive to my house was silent. She spent the ride worrying her lip and twisting her fingers around the hem of her coat.  We spoke no words to each other until she was standing in my living room, eyes wide, looking about ready to puke.

 “May I sit?” she asked in a small voice.  “My legs are trembling.”

“Yeah,” I croaked, barely able to get the word out.

Lainey sank to the floor in one fluid movement, like a cascading waterfall.  Running to her, I pulled her up, and tugged her over for a better place to sit.  I stared at her as she sat, eyes closed on the couch, hands trembling.  My brother’s blood, caked all over her was revolting and contradictory to her smooth ivory skin.  I traced a trail of crimson with my thumb, rubbing the smear from her cheek.  Her eyes opened wide, taking in my closeness and my deeds.  My fingers couldn’t help but linger against her face.

Lifting her in my arms, I carried her into my master bathroom and placed her on the chaise lounge chair.  I ran the bath and dumped a shitload of bubbly soap inside. I distinctly noticed a sheen of sweat covering her forehead and I swallowed hard. “I have to get that blood off you.  I can’t…I can’t look at you covered in blood.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I want you to stay here with me.  You’re not leaving my sight,” I snapped.

“I can’t get you involved in this, Kade.  It’s not your fight.”

“You just can’t leave what’s happened here.  My brother is in the fucking hospital so you can’t leave him, and you can’t take Bree away from him.”