by Eva Ashwood
I let my eyes drift closed again. My throat felt scratchy and dry, my tongue like sandpaper.
Most of the last several hours felt like a blur, but as I sorted through the chaotic thoughts and images in my head, everything began to solidify. My father. My talk with Bishop. My mother—
Oh God. Mom!
Mom had overdosed.
Fuck. Why was I the one laid up in the hospital bed? Where was she?
I blinked up at the fluorescent lights, eyes hurting a little as I tried to sit up. A firm hand settled on my shoulder, pushing me back down onto the bed.
“Easy, tiger. I don’t think you’re ready to move all that much right now.”
Bishop.
A dozen emotions clogged my throat as if they were all trying to escape me at once. Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted to be angry with him, because I had been angry with him, but I couldn’t find any of that inside myself anymore.
“My mom—”
“Is fine,” he said. “She’s recovering right now. Pumped her stomach, put her on a drip, and she’s not gonna be left alone, not until the doctors can be sure that she’s not gonna try something, and not till they understand what happened.”
Wasn’t it obvious? She’d tried to kill herself…
I sniffled, swallowing against the lump in my throat.
“You’re here…” I muttered. I looked over to where he sat next to my bed. He’d thrown a shirt on, and he looked tired. The mesmerizing hazel of his eyes was a little dull, and there were circles under his eyes. “You’re here. You helped.”
“Yeah. Of course I did, Cora.” He shook his head, looking almost insulted even as concern still darkened his features. “The fuck kinda person would I be if I didn’t?”
He had called me Cora when he’d called for me in my house too. Had he heard my scream from all the way across the street? Impossible. He must’ve already been close to the house when I yelled.
“Why… why did you—”
“Because I was an asshole, and I shouldn’t have said that shit to you about your dad.” He ducked his head to avoid my gaze, looking almost uncomfortable. “But don’t worry about that right now. You kinda went into shock. So don’t strain yourself too hard.”
Bishop withdrew his hand from my shoulder, and part of me wanted to ask him to put it back. To let me feel the weight of him touching me, the comforting, grounding warmth of his hand. To put it back where it belonged.
I kept silent though. He had already done so much for me. Helping to save my mother. Getting us to the hospital. Staying with me. It was more than any stranger should be asked to do for another.
Then again, we really aren’t strangers anymore, are we?
I knew him better than I knew my own parents. The thought was sobering, yet somehow comforting. I had fought with this boy, I had kissed him, I had hated and desired him. We had both confessed fucked up things about our lives to each other, and somehow, no matter how messed up the situation was, it was something that gave us a connection.
At this point, I wasn’t going to question it. I just wanted to hold on to the feeling of having someone beside me for once. I hadn’t even realized how alone I’d been for so long until he and the other Lost Boys had stepped in to fill that empty space in my life.
My gaze caught Bishop’s, and even as he pulled his hand back, he scooted his chair a little closer.
It wasn’t close enough, but I’d take it.
“Princess…”
He licked his lips, like he was trying to taste the words before he spoke them, and I lifted my head off the pillow a little, leaning toward him. But before he could finish his thought, his phone buzzed. He frowned, glancing down at the screen, and my stomach clenched.
My immediate assumption was that it would be another call like the one he’d gotten the night I found out just what it was the Lost Boys did for a living. He didn’t swipe to answer though, just read something that flashed across the screen. Then he snorted, sounding both resigned and amused.
“We’re gonna have company.”
That was all he said before the hospital room door burst open.
“Yo, came over as fast as we could. Buses to the hospital take forever. Good thing we ain’t fuckin’ dyin’.”
Despite his crass words, I couldn’t help but smile at the way Misael entered the room, followed closely—but quietly—by Kace. The blond boy nodded to me and leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. I glanced between the three of them, even more surprised at the arrival of the other two than I had been to discover Bishop had stayed. He, at least, had already been here because he’d come with us, but Kace and Misael had just… showed up.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, looking between them.
“Well, Bish texted us that something went down and that both of you were at the hospital. Shit, I’m sorry your mom’s in here,” Misael said, sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed.
“I also said not to come and crowd her up,” Bishop added flatly, looking at the caramel-skinned boy with a raised brow.
“Well, you weren’t giving us any real details, and with the way the ambulance peeled out of the neighborhood, and you driving off like a bat out of hell…” Misael shook his head, waving Bish off. “You’re not the only one who gives a shit, you stone-faced brick-man.”
I blinked. “Stone-faced… brick-man…”
“Good description, huh?”
I laughed a little. It felt surprisingly good to laugh. And it felt good to feel good. Like levity was okay for now.
It felt like a reminder that even with the darkness that loomed over our heads, there was something to be happy about. I… had people around me that cared for me. Even if it was in a strange, insanely possessive kind of way. Even if it was in a way I didn’t fully understand.
Even if it had started from a place of darkness, possession, and vengeance.
“Thank you… for coming by and checking on me,” I whispered softly. “Just… really. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if…”
I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go through this alone.
Twenty-Four
Mom had to stay in the hospital overnight, but I was free to go after it became clear I didn’t need any extra care.
The doctors let me see her when I was back on my feet, but the reunion was a short-lived one. She just lay in bed, still asleep and unmoving. Somehow, even in the harsh white lights of the hospital room and against the bleached bed sheets, she managed to look more peaceful than she had in a long time. I didn’t want to think about why that might be; did her unconscious mind think she’d succeeded in what she’d set out to do? Were her dreams filled with heavenly choirs and angel trumpets?
She would be sent home when they were sure she wasn’t going to be a danger to herself, but in the meantime, I was told to go home and get some rest myself. I wanted to stay overnight, but the doctor said it would be best if I didn’t, although I was free to come back and visit.
It was close to eleven PM when I was finally released. I could’ve taken the bus—I had cash since Bish had grabbed my backpack on the way out the door—but the Lost Boys were more than willing to drive me home.
I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that they’d all come to the hospital to be with me as we pulled up to the house. I hadn’t been prepared for the looming, uncomfortable feeling that filled me as I looked up at the house with its dirty paint and broken shutters and the cracked walkway that led to the door. I hesitated with my hand on the car door handle, delaying the inevitable for a few more seconds.
The little house had never felt welcoming, but now, something about it felt downright threatening.
“Something wrong, Princess?” Bishop looked over to me, his head tilted.
“No.” I swallowed, forcing my expression to clear. “Just feels weird to be going back in there, that’s all.”
He glanced at the rearview mirror, exchanging a look with the other two through the re
flection before turning back to me.
“Well, we’ll keep you company.”
With that, Bish killed the car’s engine and slid on out himself, followed by Misael and Kace. I looked at them disbelievingly, but said nothing else as I got out too. I trailed behind them as all three marched purposefully to the front door, turning to wait for me on the stoop.
Their habit of just doing things as they felt necessary was still a little jarring; they were so confident in their ability to do whatever they pleased, as if they were the kings of whatever pocket of the world they happened to be occupying at any given time. Maybe I should have been used to it, but it still took me by surprise more often than not.
It was one of the things I’d hated most about them when I’d first met them. But now?
I liked it.
Unlocking the door, I let them in. The lights were still on, and the TV in Mom’s room was still on, spilling sound out into the hallway. I looked down the hall with a measure of trepidation, but again, it was Bishop who took the lead and made sure things were taken care of.
“I’ll clean up back there for you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Misael and Kace can help with dinner. You definitely need it.”
And, to my shock, he actually smirked and winked at me.
I watched Bish stride down the hallway, my disbelief mounting as Kace and Misael headed into the kitchen without a moment’s hesitation. Was I in some kind of liminal space? Was I still at the hospital and just dreaming all of this? I couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t going to discount the possibility. I was tired. Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. And there were three boys in my house that were… taking care of me.
Trailing into the kitchen behind Misael and Kace, I watched them dig through my pantry. A small stab of embarrassment tightened my stomach; there wasn’t really much in there to speak of that looked like it would make a decent meal.
But instead of judging or giving me shit for it, they hummed to themselves, seeming to expertly pull out ingredients as though they were chefs in a fancy restaurant and not wayward boys in a run-down kitchen, looking after a girl who should have been able to look after herself.
“Y’know, this is pretty good shit,” Misael said, surveying the ingredients they’d found. “How’s lasagna sound?”
“That’s the least Mexican thing you could suggest,” Kace teased.
That’s right. Teased. Kace, of all people, cracked a smile and made a joke.
The black-haired boy shrugged. “Hey, man, even across the border we won’t say no to some good pasta.”
I laughed. Misael looked over his shoulder and grinned at me.
“See. Princess thinks I’m funny.”
Kace grunted. “Only because she feels sorry for what a dumbass you are.”
They went back and forth like this as they maneuvered around each other, throwing together an improvised lasagna. It felt nice, relaxed. It was just what I needed, and I was positive that if I’d ended up coming home alone, there was no way I would’ve done anything but eaten cold cereal by the light of the television.
I sat and watched them—because every time I tried to help, they made me sit back down—and eventually, Bishop came out of the back and joined us. He settled down across from me at the little table, watching Kace and Misael work their magic. A serene look fell over his face, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Thanks for staying with me,” I murmured softly. “I really needed it, and I probably wouldn’t have ended up asking you guys to.”
Bishop chuckled.
“I know you wouldn’t have. You’re a stubborn little thing. I still haven’t figured out if it’s ’cause you’re rich, or just ’cause you’re you.”
“Well, I’m not exactly rich anymore, am I?”
“You know what I mean.” Bishop reached across the table, flicking me on the nose. “Don’t split hairs. Dinner’s almost done.”
I didn’t know what dinner being done had to do with splitting hairs, but I didn’t comment on it. He was right. Dinner was almost done, and I didn’t realize until a plateful of homemade lasagna was put in front of me just how terribly hungry I was. My stomach growled, and even as Kace and Misael grabbed their own plates and leaned against the kitchen counter near the table, I was already tucking in.
It should have been embarrassing, the way I shoveled my food into my mouth, but I wasn’t bothered with keeping up appearances. What did appearances matter anymore, anyway?
All that stuff—the careful attention to every move, every gesture, every word—was the currency of my old world. It was a made up game the wealthy played because at some point, it wasn’t enough just to have more money than others.
I didn’t have to play that game anymore. I didn’t have to worry about it.
There was a small beat of silence as I ate greedily, and then all three boys laughed. I looked up to find them all gazing at me, various degrees of amusement on their faces as I forked layers of pasta, sauce, and meat into my mouth.
“What?” I asked, holding a hand over my mouth.
None of them said anything, shaking their heads and turning to their own meals, still chuckling softly.
After dinner, Misael and I did the dishes. What started out as the two of us working peacefully side-by-side ended with me splashing water at him when he insinuated that I’d probably never washed a dish in my life—lies; I’d recently begun washing dishes, a fact I was stupidly proud of—and we ended up getting suds and water all over each other and the floor. It was an otherwise quick cleanup, and Misael had me laughing despite the gloom that had hung over me earlier.
When we were finished, we joined the other two, who were sprawled on the lumpy couch in the living room watching what looked like an old action movie. Misael and I took the floor in front of the couch, and we all settled into silence as we watched, occasionally yelling commentary or warnings at the screen.
It was a little thing: dinner and a movie. But it felt so good.
I wanted things around here to feel like this all the time. Like there was a possibility for a bit of levity in our darkened lives. Like there may be a bit of light at the end of the impossibly long tunnel we were currently navigating. Tiny moments like this helped me hold on to the little bubble of hope in my chest, to keep it from blipping out entirely.
Dad would be alright.
Mom would be alright.
And, for now at least, I was alright.
“I think I’m gonna shower and head to bed,” I said, standing up and stretching once the movie was done. “You guys don’t have to stay the night. I mean, I have a few extra blankets, and I can get the living room set up for you if you want—”
Before I could finish, Misael reached up and caught my wrist in his hand.
“Stay out here a bit?” he asked.
There was a sincerity in his tone that made warmth pool in my belly. Unlike when Bish or Kace asked a question, this one actually sounded like a question. Like I had a choice, and he really hoped I’d say “yes”.
I bit my lip. “Stay… out here?”
He grinned, flashing his teeth. “Yeah. Out here. With us. Y’know… let us take care of you. You deserve it. You need to relax and all that.”
My brow rose. I had the sneaking suspicion that their idea of “relax” was very different than what I was used to.
I also couldn’t find an ounce of willpower in me to say no.
A little thrill of excitement moved up my spine as I crossed back around the couch, sinking back down onto the floor next to Misael. The credits were still rolling in the corner of the TV screen as another movie started to play, but none of us were paying much attention to that anymore.
A hand tangled in my hair, tugging gently to tilt my head back, and when I looked up, I saw Kace’s glittering eyes staring down at me. Keeping his grip on my thick blond locks, he bent his head to kiss me. Our lips met upside down, and the strangeness of that made everything feel new, as if I’d never kiss
ed this boy before in my life. I could feel his lips in a whole new way, and it sparked a little fire inside my belly that burned low and hot.
A half-second later, hands landed on my shoulder before moving down to massage my breasts, palming them and pinching my nipples, making little shocks of sensation jolt through me as pleasure mingled with a bite of pain.
My breath was already coming faster, my heart rate picking up, when I felt Misael’s hands on the button of my jeans. As he worked the zipper down and tugged them off, I shifted my weight to make it easier for him. Only once he’d pulled them off entirely did nervousness rise up in me as I felt cool air hit the skin of my legs.
I’d been touched and kissed by each of these boys before, but never like this. Never all at once.
It was an overload of sensations that threatened to drag me under and drown me.
Misael’s hot breath trailed up my leg as Bish slipped his hands beneath my shirt, resuming his torture of my breasts on my bare skin. Kace tightened his grip on my hair as he kissed me, making a soft grunting noise low in his throat.
Then my arms were being lifted, and the shirt was dragged up and over my head, leaving me in just my bra and panties. We were in the living room, and even though I knew there was no chance Mom would be back tonight, it still felt risky and rebellious somehow, to do this out in the open, not hidden behind closed doors.
“Fuck. Switch.”
Bishop’s voice was raspy, and a second later, his mouth replaced Kace’s on mine. New hands roamed over me, their touch rougher and more demanding, and when Misael buried his face in the space between my legs, I arched my back, asking without words for more.
“God, you’re so wet already, Cora,” he muttered, and I swore I could feel his words against my core just as much as I heard them.