Page 66 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

Used to be that I liked the quiet. In the silence, I could sit alone with my thoughts and feelings without worrying about what anyone around me was thinking or feeling.

I could just be myself, even if it was the self that was losing his mind over how much his life had come crashing down around him.

It had always been fucked up, that by being by myself in the quiet meant I could make myself miserable by obsessing over how much my life had fallen apart, but it was still the place I loved to retreat to when things got too heavy.

It wasn't the same quiet.

It was a quiet marred by the incessant beeping of machines, the soft scuff of shoes outside the room, the hushed conversation at the nearby desk, and the rustle of the curtains when the air came on.

Each noise could have been a background tick, a thing to lull the back of my mind and allow me to think deeply for as long as I liked.

Except they weren't background, they weren't gentle, and they didn't soothe me.

They were reminders, sometimes soft, sometimes harsh, but constant, of where I was and what I was doing there.

Bad enough I had to stare at Kayden, bundled under wires and cords that stuck out from his body and under the blanket he was covered in, which made him look like something from a horror movie, but I didn't need to be reminded of what had been happening the past two days.

I sat beside his bed, watching him carefully for any changes, good or bad, and finding none.

He had stirred a few times in the past two days, but I didn't have to be told by the nurses or doctors that it was just restless sleep, the product of a mind still plagued by the danger that had almost taken his life, and might still.

Things had been touch-and-go for a while there, but the staff tried to reassure me that the worst had passed.

I knew better than to hold onto that sort of hope.

I’d seen my fair share of gunshot wounds in the past, and I knew even someone who seemed out of the woods could quickly find themselves flying right back toward death's waiting arms. I wasn't going to sit around and act as though he would wake up and be on his road to recovery.

Even then, I knew I wouldn't know real peace, because anything could go wrong at any moment.

That I was there, in his room, was a sign of that.

Kayden wasn't even supposed to be working, but had taken a call from an officer who’d been stuck out of state and wouldn't make it back in time for his shift.

So Kayden had gone out and been working with someone he didn't know, working a route he wasn't familiar with, and it had gone as badly as it could get.

Shot. The staff were happy to keep reciting that Kayden had been lucky.

If the bullet had moved even half an inch, it would have gone straight through his heart rather than nicking it.

Of course, they didn't mention that if it had gone in another direction, it would have gotten his lung, or in another direction, and he would have been hurt, but not in any real danger.

I guess it was an unspoken rule that medical professionals didn't mention how things could have gone better, and instead, focused on how it could have been worse.

"You really need to wake up," I told Kayden, the first words I'd spoken in hours, and I had to clear my throat to speak clearly. The nurse who'd been in earlier had spoken to me, but I’d only listened, nodding when she'd asked if I’d slept. She didn’t need to hear my words to know I was lying.

"It's too damn quiet around here without you driving me crazy with your constant yammering.

I need you to wake up and give me shit for not lightening up, and not to take it seriously. "

Kayden was the sort to dismiss that he'd nearly taken a bullet through the heart.

Especially because he wouldn't want me to take it seriously, because, according to him, I took everything seriously.

I would, of course, snap back at him that almost taking a bullet to the heart was a perfect example of what should be taken seriously.

Then he'd tell me I was the sort to take a hang nail seriously, so maybe I could be glad he wasn't dead, even if it would make my life easier and quieter.

A sigh slipped from me, my chest squeezing tightly as I stared at him.

For a moment, the fantasy had been so strong I almost thought I’d heard him speak.

His lips hadn't moved, though, and I knew he was in no state to talk to me right now.

Apparently, he'd hit his head pretty hard when he’d gone down, the bullet apparently taking his legs out from under him and bringing his skull down onto the curb.

Again, I was assured the worst had passed, and that although there had been significant swelling, it was going down steadily, and when it did, he would wake up.

That was, if you believed good things were inevitable.

Biting back the next sigh, I slid my phone from my pocket and stared at it before opening my messages.

Once again, I stopped, staring at the last handful of conversations, my thumb hovering back and forth between two names.

I would probably end up in hot water if I didn't at least message Moira.

Then again, I didn't know how deep their feelings went.

They might like one another and have enjoyed the time they spent together, but that wasn't the same as spending time at his bedside when he might or might not wake up.

That was, of course, my fault; I was the one who hadn't dug deeper, hadn't asked questions, hadn't discovered how he felt about Moira or how she felt about him.

I had been so caught up in my own things that I hadn't learned about my best friend.

Then there was the second name, one of the things I’d been so distracted by that I hadn't been paying attention to my best friend.

Oh, how I wanted to blame Mason for my lack of attention, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, not really. Yes, he had been distracting, and yes, he had been trying to be distracting, but at the end of the day, I was the one who’d let myself get distracted, to get caught up in Mason and whatever was going on between us.

Plus, blaming Mason for being Mason would be like blaming a cat for playing with a mouse before it devoured it, a plant for overtaking your garden, or a storm for blowing down your favorite tree.

That was just the nature of those things; they did what they did because that was what they did.

Mason was no different, and while he was a bastard through and through, it was really on me for thinking he would be anything but himself.

Yet it had been in his nature to come to my aid when I’d needed it, but hadn't admitted it or even known it.

And he had done it without being told or expecting anything in return.

My younger self would have suspected an ulterior motive, if only expecting something in return, but.

..no. It was so tempting to message him, to let him know what was happening, but I drew my finger away.

He was a distraction I couldn't afford, and.

..really, what comfort did I deserve right now?

It was my fault Kayden didn't have his normal partner when, in normal circumstances, we could have both taken that beat.

It was my fault that I didn't know much about Kayden's life anymore because I'd been so wrapped up in my own.

And...calling someone when you’d ended things because you were scared and hurting, sounded pathetic. At least coming from me.

Instead, I looked at the other two, most recent conversations.

I took a moment to decide which one to answer before settling on Kayden's mom.

His parents were currently trapped overseas, and all flights were grounded due to a tropical storm ripping up and down the coastline.

The news had called it a bad one, but I was pretty sure they would have tried to fly the plane themselves if it meant getting to their son.

Of course, getting arrested for stealing an aircraft would mean she wouldn't be able to get to her son's side, so instead, she was doing her best to deal with the updates I could feed to her.

"Doing the same," I typed. "They say he should wake up soon, now the swelling is down. I'll make sure to tell you the minute that happens."

I sent it, wondering whether I should tell her that I've got him, but stopping myself.

It was sentimental, but sentiments didn't count for a lot when someone you loved was hooked up to machines like a fucked-up cyborg.

The best I could do was give her the information she was asking for and keep all the negativity swirling around me out.

Hope wasn't really my thing, but I wasn't so belligerent to think that someone else couldn't rely on it, especially when their son was unconscious with a bullet in his chest.

Next came Julie, the cute EMT that Kayden had once been so focused on.

It had been her who had been called to the scene when Kayden had gone down, and it had been her who had contacted me.

Apparently, I had been Kayden's emergency contact, which wasn't surprising, I was his best friend, his partner, and his parents lived in Chicago.

If anyone was going to be called when things went bad, I would be the one to get there fastest. Of course, his parents were still on the contact list, and they had been contacted, but it had been Julie who had reached out to me first.

"No change," I told her, having already given her the medical details. She didn't need reassurances or hope; she was a lot like me and relied on facts to make up her mind what to think or feel.

A text bubble showing her replying popped up seconds later, and then her message.

He busted his head pretty good. He doesn't have the brains to really cause damage, so he should wake up soon.