Page 27 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)
R iver sat on the edge of his hospital bed, his mind too foggy to comprehend the instructions the doctor was giving him.
But Angelina was listening. Her thumbs were flying across her phone screen as she took meticulous notes. He knew she was recording his medication times, how his dressings needed to be changed, what to watch out for, and when he needed to return for a follow-up.
And while he wanted nothing more than to fall at her feet and thank her for holding him together when he couldn’t, his mind was unable to move past the clock.
Forty hours.
Grey had been missing for forty hours now, the last breakthrough being the white sedan’s discovery outside Lincoln.
Sheriff Fogerty relayed information on the condition of the car through Birch, and from there it went from Jocelyn to Angelina and finally to him.
The defunct license plate led to a literal dead end—a deceased woman—and the serial numbers indicated that it had been stolen from a home in Denver.
The Lincoln PD joined the neighboring counties and were out scouring the streets and using their undercover cops to check for information from their sources.
The dogs had hit the ground twenty minutes ago.
Birch and Jocelyn were holed up at the house with a security team patrolling.
Winter was pumping his contacts on the inside for intel.
And here he was sitting on a hospital bed, glaring at the wheelchair he’d soon be taking to Angelina’s waiting car.
Handing over a stack of paperwork, the doctor gave him a tight smile. “We’re all hoping they find the son of a bitch who did this, Mr. Baker. Best thing you can do right now is rest up, heal up, and be ready to take the stand to identify him when he’s caught.”
“Will do,” he replied robotically, staying in agreement with the lie he knew Fogerty had put out to the public as he pushed himself to his feet and limped to the chair. “You sure I have to use this?”
“I’m sure I don’t like lawsuits, Mr. Baker.”
Angelina thanked the doctor profusely and tucked the insurance papers and prescriptions into her purse before spinning the chair, and him, around like a pro. “See you Friday.”
She wasted no time getting him to the elevator and through the lobby. The cops who’d stood guard outside his room followed the two until they reached her car.
“Mr. Baker, Ms. Watson,” a blond officer ventured while River lowered himself into the passenger seat with a grunt. “It’s been recommended that you stay with your brother until this all blows over.”
Before River could argue, Angelina closed the passenger door and stood with her back to him, her voice too low to make out. Getting into the driver’s side, she buckled her seat belt and eased out of the parking lot.
“I know you don’t want to go there,” she finally ventured, her hand resting on his knee. “But the department is spread too thin to cover two residences so we’re going to need to pack our bags.”
Nodding, he looked out the window without a word. His throat constricted with the familiar tightness he felt every time he thought about the house and Grey, and how much he needed Angelina’s strength beside him.
*
Angelina pulled up to the house River directed her to, their suitcases in the back seat along with River’s crutches and her purse filled with his prescriptions and instructions.
A part of her expected the house to be dilapidated and sinister, matching the image in her mind from every time River mentioned his childhood home.
Her imagination had created a mash-up of the worst of every terrible foster home she’d experienced, down to the color of the carpet and the stains on the countertops.
She expected a dark cloud, a foreboding ambience, something embodying the history and secrets the walls held for the four boys who’d grown up there.
But this white two story with the freshly painted railings and green grass gave no hint of what the occupants inside had endured all those years ago.
Getting out of the car, she walked over to River’s side and offered her hand as he heaved himself out of his seat, his teeth clenching until he was upright.
He watched her haul their bags and his crutches out of the back seat, then accepted the supports and took two limping steps before he came to a stop, his eyes on the porch.
“Before we go in, I…you…just—” He paused and took a rasping breath. “Thank you for coming with me.”
She leaned over to kiss his shoulder through his thin T-shirt, her concern over the hollowness in his voice growing.
Her own voice had sounded the same way in her youth.
It was the voice of someone without hope or the promise of something better.
So she told him what she wished someone had said to her when she was at her lowest. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than wherever you are.
Now let’s get you inside and settled so I can call the pharmacy for those prescriptions before your painkillers wear off. ”
He nodded, his progress up the path to the front door slow and unsteady. “Do you see security anywhere?”
“Jocelyn said they’re taking extra care to stay out of sight.” She looked down the street. “But Sheriff Fogerty promises they’re around.”
Trying the doorknob and finding it locked, she knocked, then listened as heavy footsteps came closer and the door opened to reveal an aged, ragged Birch. There were dark circles under his eyes, his face was unshaven, and his phone was clenched in his hand.
But he didn’t hesitate when he saw River.
He wrapped his arms around his brother and drew him in for a loose hug.
“Fuck, you look terrible.” Releasing him, he looked over at her and took the suitcases from her hands.
“You’re staying, right? Jocelyn has River’s room all set for you two, but we also prepped the living room in case the stairs are too much.
” Without waiting for a reply, he led them into the kitchen, slid their bags into the corner, and pulled two chairs out. “Sit. I have coffee on.”
Despite the copious amount of painkillers River was on, she could see the tension in his thrumming body as he sat and spoke. “Any news? Where’s Jocelyn?”
Birch handed them their coffee cups and leaned on the counter, staring at the floor as though debating what to tell them.
“Jocelyn is at Serpent’s Tongue manning the phone until I get back there.
Fogerty thinks whoever took Grey will be reaching out to make demands, force us to pick up where Ryder left off with the drug thing. ”
River opened his mouth to respond and immediately broke into a coughing fit. Birch’s expression shifted from serious to panicked and he looked to her for guidance.
“He’s okay,” she reassured him, rubbing River’s back until it subsided. “The doctor gave me a list of things to watch for, so no worrying unless I do.”
Birch nodded, but she could tell he remained wary.
“I’m going to level with you here, Angelina.
And although I hate to do this shit after everything you’ve done for River, and even though he’s looking at me right now like he would kill me if he had half the strength to, the clusterfuck we’re in can’t have anyone who isn’t a thousand percent invested.
” He rubbed his chin and blew out a puff of air.
“There’s no way to approach this gently. ”
And she knew this was it. It was time for her and River to make a decision about what they were. Cut bait or go all in.
The thought of admitting all those things she realized while she sat in his hospital room was almost as terrifying as the revelations themselves.
Taking a chance with River would mean taking a chance with his family.
It would mean being all in with him… and Birch and Jocelyn and Grey and even with Winter.
As long as they were together, she wouldn’t be alone.
But if she made that jump, she’d have something to lose. And she never wanted to put herself in a situation where she could lose something—or someone—irreplaceable.
“What the fuck are you saying, Birch?” River snarled, his voice still hoarse as he struggled to get to his feet, slumping back only when she stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.
She skimmed her fingers along the nape of his neck to calm him and took a sip of her coffee to buy herself time to organize her thoughts.
Decision made, she turned to River. “As much as I would prefer to make this statement without your brother present, and at a time when you aren’t high on morphine, I love you.
I love your mind. I love your heart. I love your loyalty and your humor.
I love every scar I can see and every one I can’t.
And, because to ignore it would be sacrilege, I love every rock-hard muscle you have.
And I love them even more when you’re naked on top of me, but that’s not relevant in this moment. ”
*
“I love you.”
River had heard those three words hundreds of times in his life.
Birch and Grey had never been shy about saying it, making up for the fact that none of them had ever heard it from their father and rarely from their mother.
Since he was thirteen, girls—and, as he grew older, women—wrote those words in notes or spoke them over the phone, the odd one saying it to him as they lay in bed in the dark.
His online fan base left it in comments, peppered with heart emojis and smiley faces.
Windy Leigh said it with an audience. Always with an audience.
But Angelina had no audience except his brother, who was looking both amused and increasingly uncomfortable. It wasn’t said in a whisper in the dark or as a flippant response to a heated exchange.