So I let his angel eyes watch over me as I slumped in the chair.

I let them keep me safe.

Safe . . .

Chapter Eleven

AK

Five days later . . .

I drank the beer, letting the cold liquid run down my throat. The night had gotten warmer, so I sat at the back of my cabin, a cooler filled with beer by my side. The sky was black and there wasn’t a damn cloud in the sky.

Vike left for the clubhouse about an hour ago, enlisted Ash to be his DD for the night. I wasn’t thinking about sluts tonight. Fuck, I hadn’t been thinking about them all week. Wasn’t interested in some slut raking at my chest and sucking on my junk.

What was the fucking point?

I looked through my kitchen window to see the clock on the wall. Five minutes to midnight. My eyes prickled with tiredness, but I knew I wouldn’t get more than a couple of hours if I tried to sleep. Because they’d be at the end of my bed in a second. And I really couldn’t stand seeing those fucking faces glaring at me.

They’d given me a couple of days rest, of course. I knew they would. The minute I helped Phebe, helped her purge the fucking heroin from her veins, I knew they’d go for a while. But I also knew that when they came back it would be worse. So much fucking worse. Memories that I thought I’d pushed away for good came back to pelt me between the eyes like a perfect shot. As they stood at the bottom of the bed, they showed me details I’d forgotten. Details I couldn’t fucking think about without losing my damn breath.

But the guilt was worse. Ripping into my stomach like talons.

So I’d stay awake.

Because I really couldn’t cope with those memories right now.

I finished the beer I was drinking and was opening another when I heard footsteps on the grass.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as Flame, avoiding my eyes, came over to where I sat.

“Nothing.” He sat down in the chair next to me.

“Nothing’s wrong? You sure?”

He nodded, his dead, black eyes staring out at the trees. I watched his jaw clench, the knives in his hands turning over in his palms. Since we’d got back from Klan Kunt’s ghost town, the fresh cuts on his arms had healed and his knives were blunt again. He still traced the flesh, but he made no new fresh cuts.

He was back with Maddie.

He was settled.

I sat back in my seat. Whatever Flame came here to say would come out eventually. I tipped back my head, staring at those motherfucking stars.

“You’re being weird.”

I froze, bottle almost at my mouth and took a deep breath. I lowered the bottle and looked over at Flame. His head was tilted toward me, but he never made eye contact. His muscles were tense under his cut, and his eyes twitched.

Shit. I had the fucker worried.

“I’m good,” I said neutrally. Flame’s lips rolled over his teeth.

“You’re lying,” he spat and got to his feet.

I sighed when he started pacing. “Flame,” I said. “I’m good. Stop worry—”

“You ain’t been speaking much, or going to the clubhouse.” His voice was cold and direct, but I could see by the narrowing of his eyes that his mind was racing, trying to understand what had changed within me. “It’s not the right date yet.” Hell, the brother may as well have slammed his iron fist into my stomach.

My hand tightened on the neck of the bottle. I squeezed it until I thought the glass would give way under my grip. I released it and shook my head. “Flame,” I said slowly. “Let it go. I’m good.”

“It’s months away from now,” he continued. “But you’re acting the same as you do then.”

My stomach hollowed out as the memories I kept pushed aside started breaking through my defenses. I saw the blood, heard the fucking screams and smelled the tinny odor that filled the room. “Flame,” I warned, close to losing my shit. I felt the lump climbing up my throat. Felt water hitting my eyes.

“It’s because of her.” He abruptly stopped his pacing. Looking up, I met the brother’s stare head on. I jumped to my feet, fueled by anger at the fact he’d brought this to me now. But I stopped dead when I saw him shaking his head, a damn lost expression on his face. “You’re AK. You don’t do this. Why’re you doing this now? It’s not time. It’s not the right month. It doesn’t make sense.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. When I opened them again, Flame was rocking on his feet awkwardly. “It’s because of her.” He wasn’t asking a question. People thought Flame was fucked up. His father had told him repeatedly that he was a retard. But the brother was perceptive. He never forgot a thing. And more than that, since the day I helped free him from that nuthouse, he’d made sure he knew me better than anyone. Everyone thought I watched over him. I knew the truth—he watched over me too.

“I’m good,” I repeated and sat down again. I ran my hand down my face. “Sit down, Flame.”

He paused, but did as I said. I took another bottle of beer, feeling the effects of drinking all day beginning to hit me.

“It’s since we took her,” he said. “Since you let her in here with you. She’s made you think of it all again.” I opened my mouth to reply, but he continued. “You don’t sleep. But it’s worse since she’s come back. You sit out here all the time. You’re drinking. You never drink this much.”

I knew there was no point in denying it. For the brother to be here, to have left Maddie in their cabin alone, his concern for me must have been eating him alive.

So I stayed quiet. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna talk about shit that didn’t need to be talked about. I hadn’t since the day it happened, and I wasn’t gonna start now.

“I’ll get through it,” I said after minutes of silence. “I’ll . . .” I swallowed against the choking in my throat. “I always do.”

“You never have,” Flame countered, no emotion in his voice.

“And never will,” I agreed. My voice was raspy, so I cleared my throat. I refused to fucking break down.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Flame said aggressively. “I don’t know how many times you have to be told that shit.”

“And I ain’t ever gonna accept that.”