Take Me On

I step into Haley’s personal space and her breathing hitches when my body slides against hers. “How about we don’t overthink it and just see how this plays out.”


Haley licks her lips as if they’re dry and stares up at me from under dark eyelashes. Damn, she’s gorgeous.

Footsteps pound against the stairs and Haley pushes me into the shadows. She races across the attic and my heart beats hard at the thought of causing her trouble.

Haley grabs the door right as it opens and blocks the view of the room with her body. “Everything okay, Jax?”

“We’re heading out in five,” mumbles Jax.

A few more worthless words between them, then his footsteps retreat back down. I edge out of the shadows and Haley turns to me. “I’ll see you later. For training.”

“Don’t overthink this,” I tell her.

“I’ll think about it.”

I chuckle and Haley smiles while lowering her head, obviously figuring out the irony of her statement.

“Thanks for the place to crash, Haley.”

“You’re welcome.” Then she disappears down the stairs.

A few hours later, I loiter down the aisle of the grocery store, buying time until Denny opens the bar and I can earn money. It’s noon and I won’t train with Haley until the evening. I used to love Saturdays; now I hate free time.

Abby passes my aisle, then jerks back and heads in my direction. “Come with me.”

“Drug deal gone bad and you need protection?” Why else would she need me?

Her hazel eyes bore into mine. “It’s Rachel. She’s dying.”

*

I don’t wait on the elevator; instead I fly up the stairs. Two at a time. Three at a time. Whipping around the corners. Driving faster. Harder. The door bangs against the wall when I wrench it open. A heaviness in my chest causes my breath to come out in gasps. And it’s not from the running. It’s from the breaking.

My sister... She’s dying.

I round the corner, swing into my sister’s room and my heart tears out of my chest. “Fuck!” My hand covers my mouth as nausea climbs up my throat. I bend over to fight the dry heave. I don’t win. I never win. My body convulses. “Fuck!”

It’s not happening. It’s not. My fingers form a fist and slam into the wall. Pain slices through my fingers, floods into my wrist. It’s nothing like the pain ripping the skin from my bones. “Fuck!”

“What are you doing?” It’s a nurse. Smaller than me. Blue scrubs. I glance up and the entire hallway watches.

I point at the empty room. “Rachel...”

“Is down the hall.” She continues to talk, but I don’t give a fuck. I run. Past her. Past others. Past the stares. Past the ICU. Past the waiting rooms. Everything on the periphery blurs. Looking, searching, and then I catch blond hair in a bed and I pause.

Blue eyes. A smile. “West!”

My heart is so out of control I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I stumble into the room, gulping in ragged breaths. “Rachel?”

My sister is up. She’s propped by a million pillows, but she’s up. And pale. Rachel was a small thing to begin with, but she’s lost weight. Scratches fragment her face like a web of broken glass. Her legs are bulky under the blanket.

“Oh, my God, you’re here!” Her smile grows and that smile has always been infectious, but instead of grinning back like I normally do, I scrub a hand over my face and sag against the wall. She’s alive. Air rushes out of my mouth and I inhale again. She’s alive.

A huge bouquet of balloons enters the room first. Three of them bump against my head and block my view of Rachel. I bop them out of the way and throw a dagger glare at Abby as she emerges on the other side of the helium nightmare.

“You said she was dying,” I whisper from behind the wall of bobbing plastic.

Abby rolls her eyes. “Of boredom. It’s not like there’s anything interesting to do around here. Someone tries to bring in a puppy and they get all pissed. It’s not my fault it pooped.”

I grab the string of balloons to keep her from going any farther. “You lied to me.”

That evil smile spreads on her face. “Shocking. What are you going to do, spank me?”

I release the balloons and she blows me a mock kiss. That girl is fucking psychotic.

“What’s with the balloons?” Rachel asks.

Abby places them on the nightstand next to Rachel’s bed and collapses into a chair. “We’re being festive.”

“Festive?”

“Like a party, fiesta, you’re-in-a-normal-room celebration. I need to get you out more.”

My family isn’t here. Not a single one. Isaiah, Rachel’s asshole boyfriend, sits in a chair parked tight to her bed radiating badass: tattoos, earrings, hair shaved close to his head. Through the tangles of tubes and wires hooked to Rachel’s body, they hold hands.