Page 19 of Desecrated Saints
After unpacking the food and shoving it into every available space, I declare the job done. Kade is scowling at my messy organisation from behind his laptop. I offered to make the run, leaving him and Sadie to continue working on Augustus’s hard drive.
“Did you really have to buy that much alcohol?” Kade sighs.
“Well, it is an essential.”
“Just watch it, Nix. This is a small house with a lot of people in it. We don’t need any more issues than we already have because your drunk ass can’t help but pick a fight.”
Slamming a beer down in front of the miserable asshole, I help myself to a bottle of rum. We’ve been incarcerated for over a year, some of us for several years. It’s time to live our lives and figure out who the fuck we are outside of Blackwood.
“I’m not trying to be a dictator,” he adds. “We both know things have been… delicate, the past few months. Without meds, it’s only going to get worse. Just be careful. I’m not running a rehab centre.”
I brace my hands on the cluttered kitchen table. “The meds never worked anyway. I’ve scraped by since Brooklyn was taken away, no thanks to you. So if I want a drink, I’m going to have one. Got it?”
“Just don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.”
“No one but you ever does.”
I head outside to hunt down Brooklyn and Hudson. It’s been a tense week living in close quarters with so much shit going on. I’m not sure any of us have stopped to take a breath yet. She’s been avoiding us too, still stuck in her stubborn ways. I’m determined to bring my girl back.
In the generous garden that stretches all the way back to the nearby woods, the late summer sun is sinking on the horizon. It bathes the overgrown jungle of a lawn in brilliant, warm light. The sound of an axe splitting wood draws my attention to Brooklyn.
Working on a pile of firewood, I watch her grab a small log and violently rip it apart with her bare hands. I can see her fingers are bloodied and splintered from here. Hudson watches helplessly, still nursing a bandaged shoulder from the gunshot.
I trail over, a peace offering of rum in hand. “Need any help?”
“Nope,” Brooklyn snaps.
“Well, I come bearing gifts.”
Sinking down on the grass next to Hudson, I deposit the huge bottle of rum in front of him. He lets out a grunt of appreciation and takes a much-needed swig.
“That’s good shit.”
“Tastes like freedom, my friend.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll go grab some food. Watch her?”
“Don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Brooklyn grumbles.
I offer Hudson a salute. “Go, I got this.”
Reclaiming the rum, I watch Brooklyn finish her angry, lumberjack routine. Her bad mood clearly hasn’t dissipated as she glowers at the campfire, lighting some old newspapers to ignite the wood. She finally collapses beside me and stretches her legs out.
“Nice shorts,” I compliment.
She shoots me an unimpressed look. “Your choice, I presume?”
“Hell yeah. I should’ve been a personal shopper instead of a junkie.”
“Hilarious. You realise it’s cold here?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”
“Gee, my hero.”
Brushing my fingertips over her ripped denim cut-offs, I caress her inner thigh, determined to coax a smile out of her. Since we’re planning to hole up here for the foreseeable future, I picked up enough basics for the whole group and other essentials, using the stash of cash Kade’s mum left us with.
Brooklyn steals the bottle of rum and takes a swig, cringing at the taste. “For future reference, I like tequila. You should know that.”