“Maybe they’ll figure out a way you can get some cash off of Frank’s shit.” She laughed right through his lie. “Then we won’t have to worry about anything.”
He almost offered her a place to crash. They’d spent so much time looking out for one another, it was ingrained. He had someplace safe. He was supposed to bring her into it. It was a habit or just how they’d run together, but Frank’d been right then, and he was right now, even in death. She’d kill him if she got the chance—even if it was by accident, his mother would be the end of him if he opened the door to her poison.
“Keep me in mind, okay?” His mother coughed, and someone said something indistinct next to her. “Look, I’ve got to go. Seriously, when Frank’s stuff comes in, hook me up. I did you more than a few solids before, right? I’ll let you know what my new number’s going to be.”
She was gone before he could say good-bye or even deny any solid she might have done. The cold was back, but this time, it burbled up from inside of him, streaking out of his damaged heart and into his fingers. His hands grew numb, and Forest flung the receiver, tossing it onto the floor with a clatter. He let the tears hit, feeling the sobbing break out of him in an uncontrollable wave.
Forest swallowed, unwilling to let her have the last good bit of him, but it was already gone, marred by her greasy touch even as he tried to wrestle back what little hope he had of being loved. Rolling over, he curled up on his side and drew his knees in, making himself as small as he could. Even as the IV needle tugged at its taped-down perch in his arm, he pulled in even tighter, anything to keep himself from shattering apart.
“God, I fucking hate you.” He bit down into the pillow, tasting the cotton and fiber on his tongue. His sobs shook him, and they grew guttural, animalistic as he fought down his pain. “And why the fuck do I even want you to care?”
Chapter 10
Death kissed me low
Left me on the road so black
Took my brothers up with him
They ain’t never coming back
Heaven saw me cryin’
Tearing up my soul inside
Reached down into its golden grace
To bring a Sinner to my side
—Saving a Sinner
THEY FOUND the chapel.
It was as empty as Quinn said it would be, but there were small meditation niches nearby Connor steered his brother to. The brothers found a space with a raised platform filled with large cushions upholstered in what someone decided were peaceful colors. Connor thought they looked more like a game of guess-what-candy-Bobby-puked, but then he’d also nearly coated the walls of his house in a shade of sad brown-cream before his mother stepped in with a shake of her head and paint swatches.
It took Quinn about a second to shed his shoes and plop down into a boneless heap. Connor was much more cautious, easing into the pod-like area, briefly wondering if anyone’d used the space for sex and if he was sitting where he shouldn’t be. Then his brother nudged his shin with a sock-covered foot, and Connor lost control of his mouth in a silly grin at Quinn’s crossed eyes and wiggling brows.
“Your face is going to get stuck that way,” Connor remarked, pushing his brother’s foot away.
“You should know. Yours did.”
“Oh, so funny,” Con snorted, moving a pillow out from behind his back. “Thanks for the coffee. And the company. I meant what I said, Q. You’re never the second string. Riley might be, or Brae and Ian, but that’s because they still laugh at fart jokes.”
“Con, even Da laughs at fart jokes. You’ve gotten old,” he teased, settling farther down into the cushions.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one? College professor and all that?”
“Nope, where do you think I learn all those fart jokes?” Quinn winked and sipped his coffee. “So tell me, why are we down here in the hospital? Who are we waiting for?”
“A… friend of mine.” Connor picked at the plastic lid on his cup. “Shit’s been going down around him, and well, Kiki’s pulled his case. Long story short, looks like someone’s fucking with him. Or maybe even trying to kill him. I don’t know—someone sent a fucking van through his coffee shop. I don’t know if they meant to hurt him, or it was just stupid luck he was inside right then.”
The realization about the danger Forest was in punched Connor in the gut. Suddenly, the coffee turned sour in his stomach, and his mind raced for any bit of information he could share with Kiki. Nothing emerged from the confusion in his thoughts other than wishing he could wrap Forest up someplace and keep him safe—a thought more terrifying than a murderer stalking Forest.