Reginald Bones 2

by Lucian Bane

  “Hell no.”

  “What?” she cried. “I’ll just do what you say, I won’t touch anything or do anything or say anything unless you tell me. Promise to God.” She made the sign of the cross. “Wait,” she said. “How’d you get him here?”

  “I called him.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Like on the phone?”

  “No, not the phone,” he muttered, wishing she’d shut up. “Like in my mind.”

  “And he could hear you?” she exclaimed, amazed.

  “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  She faced forward then looked out the window. “Come to think of it… I miiiiight not have a place at the moment. Was gonna figure that out next.”

  “You can stay in the shed till you find a place.”

  “Really?” she said, sounding astonished.

  “I’ll give you a week.”

  “You know, I could rent it from you.”

  “I don’t rent anything. But even if I did, how would you pay your rent?”

  “Well, I could… I could do Reginald’s chores. ‘Til he gets back?”

  “I do Reginald’s chores, nobody else.”

  “What about the celebrations? Oh,” she gasped. “I could organize all the shit in that room.”

  “What shit in what room?”

  She sucked in a breath, covering her mouth. “Oooooops.”

  “Oops what.”

  “Shiiiiiit, Bones. Confession,” she said lightly, raising a hand. “I said I didn’t snoop but I diiiiiiiid.”

  He nodded then shook his head. “You always were a liar. I tried to tell Reginald, but he liked believing the best about you,” he said pissed.

  She gave a deep giggle. “Oh, you were right,” she said. “I’m good at lyin’, snoopin’, and stealin’.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “But I didn’t do none of that stuff with you and Reginald, I only do that with… one time strangers, or assholes.”

  He shook his head. “You just said you lied to us.”

  “Right, but just that one thing. And it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “To you, maybe. A lie is huge to me.”

  She made a groaning sound. “So you gonna be pissed at me forever?”

  “Yes, but not for that.”

  “Then what?” she cried, like she was a saint. “I never did shit to you, Bones. Not shit! Did you know,” she suddenly wondered. “That Reginald… was my first?”

  “Your first what?”

  “True love,” she cried, like she’d said it already.

  “Sure.”

  “He was, he was.” She nodded hard enough to get whiplash. “Never has there ever been a man like him and never will there ever be a man like him. I’m done. I’m shuttin’ the fuck-factory, Bones. Draining these jugs and hangin’ ‘em up to dry.”

  “Good, the last thing this world needs is an extra whore spreading diseases.”

  “Oh Bones,” she mumbled, oblivious to his digs as she stared out the window. “I miss him so bad. I miss how he’d defend me. Say nice things to me.” She took a deep breath and let it out through closed lips, making them flap. “Wish I could help you get him back, Bonesy.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “What… Bonesy?”

  “I said don’t fucking call me that.”

  “Don’t call you Bonesy? Bonesy Bonesy Bonesy?”

  Bones entered the graveyard from the back and parked at the rear near the shed. He could so easily knock her out and bury her. Alive. “You stole our clothes, I see.”

  “I had to borrow ‘em.”

  “Because you planned on returning them?”

  “Well… you’da prolly got em when I got processed at the morgues.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well I sure as hell didn’t plan on living a full, happy life now that…”

  He eyed her as he shut the truck off, sitting there like a frozen dumb, beaten up statue in midsentence.

  She burst into sobs again, wailing about what a loser she was. Christ, how did he manage to be sitting here with this person in his truck? In his life? She should be freezing to death in a ditch but thanks to his bad luck trumping hers, he’d taken the odd route home and found her.

  He looked around and took in a deep breath. There was no hiding from it or denying it. It was fucking fate. It wasn’t done with them. The question was, what did it want? What did it want with him? What was he supposed to do with her?

  Well, until fate opened its stupid mouth, he’d do what he wanted. He realized that she was the only one, besides himself, that had any hold on Reginald. Push came to shove, he’d somehow use her to get him back. That’s what he’d fucking do. Make her fix this fuck up.

  “Can you walk?”

  “Course I can,” she muttered, fighting with her seat belt.

  He reached over and undid it, and she opened her door and fell right onto the fucking ground.

  “Christ,” he said, hurrying around the truck and picking her up.

  “I got it, just put me on my feet,” she said. “Aim me in the right direction.”

  He carried her inside and to his room, laying her in his bed.

  “This ain't the shed.”

  “No shit. You’re too fucked up to be left alone, you’ll probably burn the shed down, and I don’t carry stupid people insurance.”

  “Okay Bonesy,” she murmured, nearly out of it. “Tell Reginald I’m sorry, okay?”

  He shook his head and turned away from the sight of tears pouring out the corner of her swollen eye. “Go to sleep,” he mumbled, carefully fixing her limbs on the bed. He wasn’t sure what might be broken or what had happened. He pulled the covers over her, pressing them along her sides. He looked one last time at her beat up face, moving her hair out of the way with a finger.

  “I’m sorry, Bones,” she barely mumbled, her brows pinching.

  Guilt nearly crushed his chest as he stared at her, laying there just as broken as he was over everything. He knew damn well she’d not meant to hurt anybody. “Go to sleep,” he muttered, sliding his finger over her forehead. He’d nearly said Winter, but he never wanted to use Reginald’s name for her. And he couldn’t use the name he’d chosen to call her. Not now.

  ****

  “Ohhhhhh, my heeeead,” Winter moaned, blocking out the light.

  “Time to get up.”

  Bones’ grouchy voice confused her. Where was she? The night’s memories slowly filed in like half-dead soldiers for roll call. She remembered Reginald and waited for the agonizing loss to consume her. But it didn’t because he wasn’t dead. Bones said he wasn’t. He just needed to be called back.

  A second recollection hit her. That Reginald was just a personality. And he technically couldn’t die and she didn’t need to mourn. God, she was going crazy.

  She recalled Bones agreeing to let her stay in the shed. But… this was his bed. In his house. “What… time is it?”

  “Late,” he called from somewhere near. The bathroom maybe?

  “What time is that in Bones’ language?”

  “Seven.”

  “In the morning?” she cried. “My head, Bones,” she whispered, then wondered, hopeful. “Is Reginald back yet?”

  “No,” he snapped. “And don’t ask that. If he comes back, I’ll let you know.”

  “You will?” She wasn’t so sure of that.

  “Maybe I won’t,” he said, entering the room, not looking at her.

  She fought her way onto her elbows, her body stiff like the dead. She reached up to feel what her hair looked like, finding clumps of knots on top of her tender scalp. She eyed him messing around at the dresser and the sight of rippling muscle under his t-shirt made her body remember. But the one thing that gave her that was gone. The medium that allowed Bones to live in that way was no longer there.

  She closed her eyes and pain shot through her head. Shit. She touched her eye, feeling the puffy skin around it.

  “And it looks as b
ad as it feels,” he said, throwing clothes on the bed next to her. “Is anything broken?”

  She slowly lifted her head, trying to meet his hard gaze. “I’ll know soon enough.” The room spun suddenly. “Shit, I’m still drunk.”

  “If you need help, let me know.”

  Like hell she would. All that hate in his tone. She’d bet he wasn’t a praying man until now. She'd bet he was begging God for her to not need his stupid help because the idea of touching her made his skin craaaawl. She wished the feeling was mutual. But it wasn’t. Not at all.

  Bossy. She wouldn’t be surprised if Bossy Bones hadn’t been the one to bully his way into Reginald’s body. Call for his help. Riiiiight.

  She made her way to sitting groaning and choking on pain. By the time she stood on wobbly legs, she was covered in sweat and shaking. She eyed the first landmark she needed to get to—the foot of the bed.

  “And hurry, we have things to talk about,” he called from down the hall.

  “I’ll be right there, Master,” she yelled back. “Lord Ass,” she muttered, grabbing hold of the metal foot rail and looking for the next sturdy something to walk to. There was nothing but the door now. Shit.

  She eyed it, building her courage to make the journey. She should probably just shoot out and get a momentum. Grab hold of the door frame when she made it. Maybe she should try slow first.

  Three steps in and it became clear that something was seriously wrong with her right leg. And lower back. “Oh God,” she gasped, stifling cries with each step.

  She heard him coming and fought to hurry to the door.

  “Shit,” he muttered, getting right in her way.

  “Move!” she cried, latching on to him.

  “Why didn’t you call me,” he growled.

  “Because you’re the devil!” she bit back.

  “Well I’m the only one here to help, so deal with it.”

  “I’d rather crawl to the bathroom,” she gasped, pressing her forehead to his chest and trying to get her footing while breathing him in. “Just get me to the door and I’ll make it the rest of the way.”

  He suddenly lifted her in his arms and set her back on the bed. “Don’t move.”

  He left and she rolled her eyes when she heard him in the bathroom running water. Great. He returned with a robe. “Get undressed and put this on.” He tossed it on the bed and she kept her head lowered as he left again, shutting the door behind him.

  She sat there, feeling stupid and useless. Was her own damn fault too as usual. She took hold of the overall strap and slid it off her shoulder. She struggled to pull her arm through the hole, discovering another injury. Left shoulder got it good. Goddamnit.

  She needed another route out of this contraption. She tried to get her arm back through the hole but of course it refused to go. She’d have to undo those god-awful hooks on the shoulder straps. They’d take every bit of strength she didn’t have to undo it.

  “Are you done?” he called in annoyance from the door.

  “No!” she yelled, wincing when her head pounded. “I’ll need an hour.”

  “An hour!?”

  “It’s these stupid clothes of yours. Just bring me some scissors and I’ll cut them off.”

  He opened the door and marched over, stopping before her, staring in confusion at her progress. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Trying to undress, what does it look like?”

  “Like you got stuck climbing out of a fucking window. Christ. These things here work like buttons,” he said, unhooking the first one.

  “I know that, but I’m too damn—”

  “Stupid?”

  Fury shot through her and she bit his hand, making him jerk back.

  “You bitch!”

  “You prick!” She glared at him. “If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d kick your ass. In fact, when I heal, I am kicking your ass,” she promised.

  “Good,” he muttered, getting back to the task of humiliating her. “I could stand a good ass kicking.”

  Her anger slowly subsided at hearing him back off a little. He removed one strap then the other. “Can you unbutton the shirt?”

  The rest of her tension seeped out at his change in tone. It wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t biting and accusing. “I could but… I’ll need scissors to get off the one under it.”

  He left, and she began unbuttoning the shirt. She had it done when he returned with a pair of orange sheers. He slowly peeled the flannel shirt off of her and she reached for the scissors.

  “I’ll do it.”

  She didn’t dare protest when he went behind her and cut the material from the back. “Christ,” he muttered, touching an area on her back that made her wince. “Cover yourself,” he said, his tone almost gentle.

  She grabbed the robe and held it to her chest.

  “Lie down.”

  “I can do it.”

  “So can I. It’s not like I haven’t seen you.”

  She didn’t feel like fighting and did as told. While he cut the thermal pants up her right leg, she used the robe to cover her midsection. She soon encountered another severe injury. Being touched by him. Even if it wasn’t Reginald, her body didn’t care. She was like a dried-up sponge and his touch was the only water on Earth. Her pores fought for the barest little drop, rejoicing and weeping with even an accidental encounter.

  He paused his cutting near her thighs when she was straining. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  “Well you’re acting like it.”

  “Just hurry,” she whispered.

  “Do you need the bathroom?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused again, and she met his glare. “Why would you lie?” he said, angry. “What aren’t you telling me? I hate the way you lie.”

  “I don’t like you touching me. Okay? Are you happy?” She stared at him, wondering what she’d seen in those black eyes before his anger stomped it out. Curiosity? Confusion? Hurt?

  “The feeling is mutual,” he said. “So try not to do shit that requires me to.”

  “I didn’t make you help.”

  He cut the last bit and yanked the material off, pulling the robe with it accidentally. “Fuck,” he hissed, shoving it back on her lap and straightening. “Do what you want,” he said, walking out. “Crawl, slither, dance your way to the tub, I don’t care. No, you know what?” He turned back around and her heart hammered as he scooped her up in his arms. “I don’t have all day. You need to take a bath and we need to talk.”

  He walked her to the bathtub and lowered her into the water. Shit, shit, hot! She clung to his neck, gasping.

  “Too hot?” he wondered, pausing with her midway.

  “No,” she lied, not wanting him to pull his back out.

  He finally set her carefully in and stood. He stared down at her body with a look of pure anger, making her cringe. He finally turned that look on her. “I want every name of the fucks that did this to you.”

  She watched him stalk off and slam the door, making her jump. It took a whole minute for her finally to sag down into the water and let go. God, she was ready to fall apart.

  She held up her hand, watching the tremble in it then lowered it back into the water. She looked down at her body finally and her stomach clenched. She looked like a sky covered in angry black clouds. She bruised easily though. She should tell him so he didn’t think it was as bad as it was. But then it felt that bad. She didn’t remember feeling it when it happened.

  She’d thought his angry face was for her ugly body. But it was that he was angry… more like furious, that they’d hurt her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or cry about it. Maybe both. When did she start caring if she got an ounce of sympathy or love from Bones?

  Fifteen minutes into her soak, he barked at the door, “Do you need help?”

  The annoyance in his tone wasn’t as offensive now. Now that she knew he cared a little. “I’m just trying to soak my muscles. I’ll wash up.”

&
nbsp; “No,” he said. “Take as long as you need. I have chores. We’ll talk when I get back.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” she called out.

  “Is there anything you need?” he all but demanded. She had to smile. Being nice was clearly a challenge for him and he was trying. Probably for Reginald who he thought would be back and would kick his ass..

  “Ibuprofen?”

  “I put some in the room for you. I need to do some of Reginald’s chores while I’m out so, I may be a while.”

  “Like what?” she wondered.

  “Like grocery shop.”

  The loathe in his tone was priceless. “You want me to do it?”

  “You’re not in any shape to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat?” he demanded.

  “I’m going on a diet, so nothing junky. Healthy things, please. Green leafy veggies, carrots. Oh, and fruits.”

  “Why are you going on a diet?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  “To be healthy and not… fat,” she blurted.

  “Reginald likes you exactly like you are,” he said, like he didn’t want her changing anything while he was gone.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

  “He minds,” he snapped. “He’s obsessed with everything about your body.”

  “Really?” She smiled even though he sounded disgusted. “That’s just—”

  “Silly, I know.”

  Her smile vanished. “No, sweet, asshole,” she said to the bastard behind the door. “You probably like long, legged, skinny bitches with the C cups. Well, not everybody can be awesome like your brother, but don’t beat yourself up over it. The world can’t handle two amazing men like him. And I kind of like having him all to myself.”

  She heard him chuckle and mumble something as he walked off.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’ll be back,” he yelled. “Don’t leave the house.”

  “Don’t leave the house?” she muttered with a smirk. “Like you own me? I’ll leave whenever I want, Lord Ass who doesn’t share his brother’s obsession with my fine self. You didn’t seem to complain when I was…” Guilt slammed her that she had even gone there with Reginald’s brother. Then she remembered. They’re not two people. One’s a personality. Remember that. Stop forgetting it.