Page 78 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)
I take longer than I should to process that. They said he got help, but I’d imagined he found a therapist or went home for the week. “What? Why?”
Walker tugs me into his arms, turning me so I can see the other two. “He’s been on edge for a while.”
“Well, yeah, but inpatient treatment? For what?”
Walker’s hand splays across my stomach, like he needs to feel me under each individual finger.
But it’s RJ who answers, my hand in his.
“Bipolar disorder. They’re keeping him because the drugs can make you manic before you stop being depressed.
And with his history, they don’t want him doing something permanent. ”
“Why would he have a history of doing something permanent?” Trips asks, the growl in his voice easily mistaken for anger. But it’s obvious to me he’s worried, not furious.
Walker clears his throat. “Because I found him hanging out of the Witch’s Hat, wondering if letting go would let him feel again.”
The tears that I thought I had controlled spill down my cheeks, guilt and fear warring inside me.
RJ steps close, the two of them folding me between them.
“He’s doing well, sugar. And before you know it, he’ll be back at it, just hopefully a little less prone to falling off the edge of either his highs or his lows. ”
“I shouldn’t have talked you guys into this,” I mutter against his shirt, wetting the purple fabric with my tears, and probably leaving a good measure of mascara as well.
A palm presses against my cheek, shifting me so I’m staring up at Trips’ blue eyes.
“We agreed to this, too. And who’s saying this is a bad thing?
You were holding him together, Crash, but he needs to hold himself together.
We all do. We support each other, but we can’t be each other’s crutches.
That’s not safe. That’s why we ran—so we could get stronger before we fixed shit.
So don’t blame yourself. He’s getting stronger, which is exactly what he needs to do.
” My lips twist, and he grips my jaw in response.
“I’m speaking from experience here. Sometimes you’ve got to get out of the life you’ve been stuck in before you can find your way to the life you want. ”
RJ glances at Trips, and I expect him to not say anything else. But after a moment, he clarifies. “I went to rehab. In high school. Discovered I didn’t have a drug problem, but a control problem. So I got as much control as I could and held on like a fucking pit bull.”
Walker’s huffed laugh behind me is so familiar I never want to leave the circle of his arms. “We should probably talk business,” he adds, tugging me incrementally closer, RJ squeezing my hands in his before stroking one palm down my arm, drawing goosebumps behind it.
I glance at Falk, as does Trips. But he’s the one who speaks. “How deaf are you right now, Hunter?”
“I might as well be in another country.”
“Perfect.” Trips turns back to us. “They figured out we were faking, but we managed to put off the risk of anything permanent until you got us the shot. So, no baby worries.”
It’s like a collective sigh goes out of everyone, myself included.
I take over. “Otherwise, we’re mostly locked up, let out for school.
No access to the internet.” I omit the phone, just in case Falk isn’t what he seems to be.
Also, everyone here knows I have one. “Mattie’s helping me,” I say instead.
Trips’ nostrils flare. “I don’t like that.”
“She offered, and I see more of her than you,” I explain. “And as much as she’s your kid sister, she’s not a kid. There’s no way she is, having grown up in your house. She’s half kid and half middle-aged Machiavellian queen.”
This gets both of the other guys to laugh, and after a moment, even Trips nods his agreement.
“Fine. How about you guys?”
RJ drags me from Walker’s arms, pressing me to him, tired of waiting for his turn. But Walker keeps one of my hands, his other one resting on my hip. “We’ve been mostly occupied with Jansen, but the house is half covered,” RJ says, staying vague.
“How long?” Trips asks.
“A few weeks.”
“And the guest list?” I ask.
“All invited and waiting for the official event.”
“Any issues?” Trips asks, stepping forward and carefully wiping the tear stains from my cheeks.
“Not yet, but we need Jay back for the next part.” RJ pauses, his chest deflating. “But I have a feeling. I can’t put a name on it, but something is off. I think it’s contained in the other project, but—”
Trips blinks, then tucks his hands in his pockets. “Trust your instincts. You’ve pulled enough threads over the years to have a good feel for them.”
The lights flicker, and a chime sounds, signaling it’s time to return to our seats.
But I can’t say anything, the pressure around my heart like a thousand rubber bands at the prospect of leaving them.
So instead, I pop up on my toes and kiss RJ, long and hard, needing this memory to hold me over, then spin and do the same to Walker, the two of them so different, but so vital to the person I’ve become.
“I’ll miss you,” I say to both of them, as Falk glances over his shoulder at us, knocking his chin in a ‘get-going’ motion.
“Miss you, too,” Walker says.
Trips takes my hand, tugging me away, and, barely audible, RJ mumbles, “Love you.”
My eyes snap over my shoulder, and his sad smile is all I see until I’m swallowed by the crowd, lost to them, and surrounded by monsters disguised as handsome men in designer slacks.
Luckily, one monster is mine.