Wolf (A Little Red Riding Hood Retelling) (Brother's best friend romance)

by J. A. Wynters

  “Oh god, I want to believe you,” her voice quivers and the gun shakes in her hand.

  I keep my eyes locked on hers, refusing to show her I’m afraid. “Believe me baby, let me take all your pain away, let me show you how much you mean to me.”

  “You’re just saying it,” she juts the gun forwards.

  My hands come up automatically, “No, no, put that down. Let me show you how good we can be together.” My stomach clenches and every muscle in my body is tense and alert.

  “Show me.”

  “Come here baby.”

  “No! Drop your pants and show me how much you want me.”

  Fuck.

  I’m as flaccid as soggy asparagus and nothing about this naked, crazy lady is going to get me hard.

  “Come on baby, you know I can—”

  “Drop. Your. Pants. And. Show. Me. Now.” She’s gritting her teeth, and I feel her control slipping. I can’t take my pants down; I’ll be more vulnerable with them around my ankles.

  “Why don’t you come here and take them off for me? Take me in your hands baby, come here so we can both feel better.”

  “Now!”

  I exhale a desperate breath and reach for my jeans button, my mind races searching for anything to get me hard, anything but Red. I don’t want to taint that, not any part of it. But the thought of her spreads warmth across my body, and for the first time, my cock twitches to life, like even the mere mention of her wakes all of me up.

  “What just happened?”

  “What do you mean?” My hands freeze on the zipper.

  “Something happened to your face, you thought of something.”

  “Someone.” I try for a smile again.

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think, baby?”

  “Me?”

  “Of course. Us, our future, our house, our kids.” I wink at her.

  She squeals like a toddler in a toy shop, drops the gun to the side, and in that one minuscule second, my eyes dart to the corridor before they land back on her face.

  “Liar!” She screams, and her gaze boomerangs to the corridor.

  She swings the gun toward the empty corridor and starts running. I beat her to the entrance but we both see Red at the same time; she’s leaning against the wall, a phone in her hand.

  “You bitch,” Jenny screeches, “it’s all your fault.” She swings the gun at Red, and without hesitating, I dive—not thinking beyond making sure Red is safe.

  A severe bang is followed by an explosion of pain in my shoulder that splinters and burns across my entire back and crawls up my neck with scalding pain and hot ferocity. My chest feels as if it’s been ripped open, and blood pours onto the white tiles. It gushes from my wound and quickly becomes a puddle.

  There’s screaming somewhere—it grates against my brain, high pitched and disturbing all sliding into one sound.

  “Wolfy!”

  “Shaw!”

  “Look what you did…”

  “Oh my god, Shaw!”

  “Get away from him, why are you calling him that?”

  “Shaw, just hang on.”

  “Get away from him, why are you calling him that?”

  I push myself from the floor, my bulk for once working against me, the world spinning around me. The bullet wound has rendered my right arm totally useless and my left keeps slipping in my blood. Pain slices my insides as I suck in a broken breath and reach for Red.

  My hand finds only air and my body hits the floor with a thud. Pain explodes in my sides and nausea climbs up my throat. I fight the pull of darkness. It’s so close and I know it will bring endless comfort, but Red is still here with Jenny and she has a gun. Every fight sensor in my overwhelmed system fires up, it clashes with the agony and queasiness ripping through me each time I move. I fall on my back, gravity pinning me down. Through the fog, I see Jenny; she’s crying and screaming, and I can’t work out what she’s saying or how to help her. Where the fuck is Red?

  Don’t, Jenny please. I think I’m talking, but if I am, she can’t hear me. There’s more noise, it’s fuzzy then angry and loud and a blur of colours and shapes rush by me. I think I hear another gunshot and maybe my name.

  “Shaw?” A soft familiar voice slithers in my ear, and fingers tug at the strands of my hair.

  Noise becomes a humming white sound that drowns away the blaring sirens, and screeching, and husky voices, until a warm darkness descends and takes away all the pain.

  50

  Red

  Everything happens in slow motion. I look down the barrel, it glints with more menace than Jenny’s eyes. She glares at me through narrow slits and the world falls silent. A second later there’s a harsh ringing in my ears as Shaw’s body moves in front of me then drops limply into the floor. He grunts in pain and his face contorts in an agonised grimace. My legs give out and I drop to the floor as a bolt of shock shoots through me.

  Jenny is screaming while blood gushes out of Wolf’s shoulder, painting the floor red. A hoarse pained moan rips from his lips, and my heart beats so hard I think I might pass out.

  “Shaw!” I scream his name. Once, twice, endlessly.

  Time is moving too fast and I can’t grasp it at all. There’s so much blood, too much blood, and Shaw’s broken expression twisted in pain. He tries to move, his biceps straining over the effort as his shoulder lifts slightly from the floor. His lips move like he’s trying to talk, but it’s only a hoarse, pained whisper. He falls back down and the air rushes from my lungs, and I can’t seem to pull anymore in.

  “Just hang on, Shaw,” I whisper to him, my eyes pooled with tears.

  A crash rips through the corridor and people come running into the room. A blur of movement and noise, but all I can see is the blood as it pools around me and saturates everything. I think I can taste it.

  “Red? Red?” Hands dig into my shoulders, and he shakes me from my daze.

  I lift my gaze to find Hunter, concern etched deep across his brow.

  “Hunter?” I feel like I’m waking up from a dream.

  He pulls me into his arms then his gaze lands on Wolf. “Fuck,” he mumbles and lifts me away. I protest, clawing at him, “No, I can’t leave him.”

  “Shhh,” he holds me while pulling me away, “let the paramedics work.”

  Strangers surround him and he’s all alone, and I don’t want to leave him. I rip away from Hunter’s grip and fall back by Wolf’s head, his glazed eyes roll to the back of his head and my trembling hands hover over him as I get snatched away.

  “Let them help him,” Hunter’s voice tries to soothe me, but I feel like my heart is breaking all over again.

  There are so many voices and so much noise, and I can’t see past Shaw, past his pale face set in agony.

  Hunter holds me as I follow them down to the waiting ambulance.

  When they ask which one of us wants to go, Hunter releases me and says he’ll meet us there.

  We’re moving but it feels like we’re underwater and fighting a current as they work on him. I sit in the rumbling, wailing ambulance, sucking in long deep breaths and struggle not to vomit or collapse.

  Wolf’s strained breaths drown out all the other noise and fear saturates me like his blood, which covers half of me.

  We come to an abrupt stop and then we’re moving again. There’s so much talking, and everyone seems so calm, too calm while all I do is want to scream. Instead my shaking fingers find his hair, and he lets out a strangled moan. I keep touching him. I keep telling myself it’s to let him know he’s not alone, but maybe it’s just to comfort myself. I need to feel his heat, to know he’s not gone.

  Arms pull me away again and then he’s wheeled away, and I’m left in a cold abandoned room with tears slicing my cheeks and red staining everything.

  “I bought you some clean clothes,” Hunter says, and I have no idea when he got here and how long he’s been in the room.

  He hands me a bag, but it slips out of his hand and to the floor when I
fall into him and sob, all the fear and shock ebbing out of me in hot angry tears.

  I want to be numb.

  “You’re okay Red, you’re both okay,” he says and crushes my head to his chest which heaves and falls as if he’s reminding himself of that too.

  I sling my arms around him and find comfort in his heat and strength.

  “He’s going to be fine, nothing keeps him down for long.” I’m not sure who he’s talking to. “Okay.” I repeat his words in a quivering voice and let out a frayed breath.

  “Red? Are you? Okay?” I can hear the strain in his voice

  Not even close, “Yeah.”

  He kisses the top of my head and I know he doesn’t believe me, but we both pretend everything is fine, just for now, just till we both get a chance to digest what happened.

  “The police want to talk to you.” He cocks his chin towards a uniformed policewoman standing at the door. She stands silently letting us have our moment.

  I nod against his chest and mumble something, they can wait. The whole world can wait.

  When I feel like I can stand on my own, I push away from him, wipe my face and stare at the red staining everything.

  Hunter picks up the bag and leads me to a bathroom. The woman follows us silently. When we get to the bathroom, she holds the door open for me.

  “I’m Constable Brown, I’ll need to take some forensics from you.” She seems kind.

  I shrug. I don’t know what she means. I don’t care, I just want to clean up.

  “I’ll be right outside.” Hunter kisses the top of my head.

  I take him in; I‘ve glued Wolf’s blood all over him, but he’s a rock—an anchor—keeping everything together.

  I nod and take the bag then head into the bathroom.

  My face cracks as I take myself in. Puffy eyes and blotchy skin. My jeans and shirt are ruined, painted a dark, angry crimson, my matted hair clumped together in angry knots weaved by blood.

  Constable Brown is gentle when she asks me to stand against the wall. She takes pictures, my face, my hands, my body. All the blood.

  I peel away the clothes, she takes them from me in her gloved hands and slips them into evidence bags. It makes everything feel dirtier, the kind that can’t wash off.

  I wash everything away. It doesn’t help.

  There are policemen, there’s talking and questions, and somehow I manage to keep my tears at bay as I picture Wolf launching himself in front of me. The thundering explosion ricocheting through my heart.

  Doctors check me. I tell them I’m fine. They don’t believe me. They want me to sleep. To take some sedatives, I just want to be with Hunter. I know he’s hurting too; Wolf has always been more than a friend—he’s been part of our family for so long, they are brothers beyond blood.

  51

  Red

  I stare at the blank white wall of the waiting room. It’s the opposite of everything that’s going on inside me. I’m a kaleidoscope of emotions, all crashing into one another with brutal, angry force painting my inside with anxiety and tension as guilt and anger tangles with fear and apprehension.

  Hunter is pacing like a marching band without a drum major, the strain is drawn across his face and there’s blood smeared along the side of his shirt.

  We both jerk up any time anyone passes by, and the smell of disinfectant burns my nose.

  I can’t stand the empty silence broken only by his measured steps and by my uncertain heartbeat. I bolt from the uncomfortable, plastic chair, my nerves frayed. I can’t take another second of this. “I need a drink.”

  Hunter nods like he knows what I mean, but he’s a sentinel, too loyal and good to leave his post.

  “They won’t be done for at least an hour. And then the cops want to talk to him. Come downstairs with me.”

  “Red….”

  “I need you.” I hate throwing that in his face, but it’s true.

  He scrubs both hands over his face like he’s trying to decide. He’s torn between loyalty and his stomach. “Fine, but a quick one.”

  I shrug and walk out of the waiting room and along the bland corridor towards the elevator. We shuffle inside and wait in silence till we’re down at the lobby. Everything feels like it’s taking too long—the walk to the cafeteria, the wait in the queue, the barista making our coffee. Why do all pivotal times in my life involve a coffee?

  We find a seat in the crowded cafeteria. You can tell who feels at home here and who the newbies are. The long-term family members who stick around with patients who have been in care too long greet all the staff members, they know the barista by name, and they look like the seat they’ve occupied has been theirs since day one. They joke and they have a version of relaxed that hides that paranoia and worry they carry with them every day. It’s their normal.

  Anyone else that’s not a staff member is a newbie; the worry is etched so deep into their faces it’s like a fresh sculpture that’s not been fired yet, the worry hasn’t set in, they don’t know how terrible the damage is, if there a chance to walk out of here or if soon this will be their new normal.

  I’m a clay sculpture, I’m waiting to enter the kiln.

  “I called his mum,” Hunter breaks through my thoughts and leaves my categorising unfinished, there are so many more stacks to fill.

  “Good. Is she coming?”

  “They’ll be here tomorrow, they’re vacationing in Greece.”

  “Oh yeah of course, I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” I put on my poshest accent and he cracks a quick smile.

  “The best.” His face falls again and he sips his coffee.

  “Hey,” I place my hand on his, “he’s going to pull through, you said so yourself.”

  “I did, and he will.” He clutches the back of his neck and stares at me.

  “Is there something else?”

  “Yeah, there is.” His lips stretch into a thin line.

  “What is it Hunter? You’re stressing me out.”

  He clutches my hand and wraps his around mine. “Sometimes in life you try to do the right thing. You think that this thing is best for everyone, that it protects everyone and keeps them safe. But then you realise that that thing you did actually caused more harm than good, more damage, more pain, and you’re responsible for all of it.”

  “What are you talking about Hunter? You’re not making any sense.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you, to make sure you were looked after.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I shift in my chair and a shiver slithers along my skin. “What did you do?”

  He scrubs his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them, they fix on mine, “Just know that I’m sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing, for all of us.”

  “Hunter.”

  “I’m the reason he’s not told you how much he wants you, how much he needs you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He quirks an eyebrow like we both know I’m pretending not to know who he’s talking about. He draws in a long breath. “I’m the one who told Wolf not to go near you.”

  My mouth falls a little open and I stare at my brother. “What are you talking about?”

  He swallows down a gulp of coffee and rests back into his seat, “A week before your sixteenth birthday I caught Wolf stepping out of your room. He just walked out of it like it was fine. You were fucking fifteen.”

  My hands tighten around my mug. “We never—”

  “—it doesn’t matter,” he cuts me off, “I followed him outside and I went ballistic. We had plans, we had a friendship, you were my little sister, I thought he felt the same about you.”

  “Like I was his sister?” I say it slowly and my stomach churns.

  Hunter’s mouth twists in a grimace and he nods.

  Eewee.

  “I hit him.” His eyes dart to the floor, “He let me, again and again. I was so angry, and he was so placid. He kn
ew he’d crossed a line, with you, with me.”

  My heart chugs and my stomach bubbles with volcanic rage that shoots hot angry lava into my veins, “How could you?” I hiss.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “I loved him.”

  “He was a player, he would have broken your heart.”

  “He did that anyway.” I erupt at him, “He left me so broken—”

  “Red, I…”

  “—but it was all you…”

  “You know how it is, don’t dip your pen in the company ink and all that.”

  “The compan—” I stand up and my chair clutters to the floor, “I can’t do this right now.”

  I stomp away towards the exit leaving Hunter in my wake.

  52

  Red

  A sleepy looking policeman stands outside his door. His uniform worn with too many washes and his shoes shiny. He stares at a spot on the floor, his hands fastened behind his back. He straightens up when he sees me and I muster up a brittle smile, stare at the door and give him my name. I’m listed as his next of kin, the man steps aside, pity shading his otherwise schooled expression.

  Wolf lies on the bed, his eyes shut. I stop at the door, watching him. His pale face is peppered in sweat. With small steps, I edge into the room and stand by the side of the bed, uncertainty gripping me as he grimaces. The heart monitor sings the melancholy tune of his heart.

  I want to soothe him. I want to take all his pain away. Guilt washes over me as my shaking fingers stroke his hair, his dazed eyes fly open.

  “Red,” he whispers in a strained voice. When his eyes meet mine, his features soften slightly, then fall back into a grimace as he takes a shallow breath. My heart lodges in my throat.

  “Shaw…” I want to speak but I’m choking on my guilt. Tears pool in my eyes.

  I sit next to the bed, my fingers trace long lines up and down his hand. His blurry eyes roll around as he struggles to stay awake. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know.”