Page 6 of Resurrection (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #3)

Aly

There are different types of silence, the uses meant to vary depending on each unique situation.

The comfortable silence with friends and family—where no one feels the need to disrupt the quiet peace found amongst one another.

The silence of depression—where the world is too loud to hold back, bombarding and battering you over and over again until you can no longer shield yourself from its assaults, so you build your own walls to finally shut down and quiet your mind.

The respectful silence, saved only for mourning and funerals.

The type that follows flat smiles and placating gestures, empty promises, and a mountain of regrets.

Then, there’s the type of silence filled with suspicion.

Where things aren’t how they should be and are very.

.. very wrong. Where the patient, who was resting on the pillow bed we made on the floor, is no longer there.

In fact, I can’t find him anywhere. Not even in any of the bedrooms. Besides the bathrooms, they were one of the first places I checked.

We told him he could move there if it made him more comfortable, but he seemed resigned to stay where he was, which brings me back to—

“Where did you go?! Cole?!” I yell up the stairs again in case I missed him. Silence. Irritating, echoing silence.

He almost died. His wounds aren’t fully healed. He needs to rest, dammit!

My teeth and fists clench as the pounding sound of Jax taking out yet another tree fills the room.

It cracks and breaks, thudding on the ground, giving me a moment of reprieve from his unending vendetta against the landscaping this morning.

Both he and Hawk walked out the front door just after my impromptu breakfast featuring my much-needed sugar fix.

They were delicious. As per the norm. But were they joy-filled like I’d expected? Like they’d always been?

No.

No, they were not. The crawling feeling under my skin still lingers even after I delivered the killing blow to the last of the Smore’s treats.

My life flashed before my eyes twice within the past week.

Once, when I almost succumbed to the horde on that beach, and then again when I thought Cole was drifting away from us and there was nothing I could do about it.

It wasn’t necessarily my life I visited when I looked down at him, but the life we might not have gotten.

The life we could have lost... with Cole.

I could picture it so clearly. The future years... filled with so much love and adoration and potential. The images floated through my mind like a silent movie I never wanted to end.

Surviving through this hellscape. Finding sanctuary far away from any threat the living dead posed.

Growing closer together. Growing older together.

I can still see the shadows of greys and whites whispering around his ears, and the wrinkling of skin from his wide smile.

I remember seeing Hawk and Jax growing old alongside him but never losing that youthful playfulness that always existed between them.

Those what ifs dissipated like sand through my fingertips as we watched him lay still on the floor, desperately clinging to hope.

So still.

He was so still.

Like death .

Like I had been dying as well, right there next to him.

But then... so suddenly... there was life and it was as if I was being resurrected with him.

My heart pounded through my chest as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that, yes.

..he was alive. Staring deeply into my eyes, caressing my face, reassuring me that all was well and good and right in the world.

That was all that mattered. He’s alive, as were we all.

But if that’s the case, then why do I feel like this? Not panicky like I’m semi-prepared for—been practicing coping mechanisms for—but paranoid. Anxious. Ready to fly off my own proverbial handlebars and take out the world if that front door opens and it’s not Jax or Hawk behind it.

Is this how Jax felt? After...

Even as I take a deep breath, trying to reset, calm is not an accessible emotion.

On edge, however, that’s more accurate. Easily attainable after everything we’ve been through.

It’s clear my inability to cope with everything that’s happened is taking over, no matter how much I try to force my mind to focus on the facts.

To remind myself Cole’s alive. That I’m alive.

Hawk and Jax are still alive. Even Sadie, our beautiful pup, is alive. So why do I feel so out of control?

Probably cause you’re like three days late and up to your eyeballs in progesterone?

“Oh, shut up. First of all, I’m late cause stress does that to women. It’s fucking normal. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been under a ton of it, lately. And, secondly, fuck you.”

“Aly?”

I spin around so fast I almost smash my face into the corner of the wall, my rage-filled argument with myself taking a backseat as Cole enters the room, his hands bracing on the wall as he limps along the carpeted floor.

My hands press against my own wall, willing it to steady me and my racing heart.

“Are you ok?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he takes in my unsettling state .

I take another staggered breath, my eyes drifting around the room as a sudden bout of tears brims my eyelashes.

I push those bitches back, though, needing to be strong.

To take care of Cole. He needs us— all of us—and I can’t let myself get taken out by my lingering thoughts.

When I’m confident I can speak without losing my grip, I respond, “Uh... yeah.”

He takes a cautious step closer, most of his weight going on his good ankle as he tilts his head, probably doing his analytical thing.

Doc has entered the chatroom...

“Beautiful?” he implores, instantly seeing the truth behind my lie. Not good. This is about him, not me. I’m fine, he’s not. He’s the one that needs to be taken care of now, not me.

Game face, bitch.

Standing taller, I give his inquisitive stare one of my own. “I’m fine. The more pressing question between the two of us should be, what are you doing?!”

He looks behind him, for some reason thinking I’m speaking to someone other than the man who’s supposed to be resting. “What do you mean?”

Oh, no he didn’t.

I tilt my head to the side, my arms, lifting of their own accord to cross in front of me. “What do you think I mean? You’re injured! Get back in here and rest. What in the hell were you doing? ”

He returns my glowering stare with one of confusion, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

“I, uh, was checking out the garage. Looking to see if the old residents left a vehicle for us that’s in better condition than the shit box Jax found.

Unfortunately, they did not. It’s just filled with a bunch of shower curtains and tarps.

” I open my mouth to ask why but he beats me to it, waving my question away with an outstretched hand. “I have no idea.”

“Doesn’t matter. We already have a vehicle and you, Sir, need to rest.”

That’s right. I put my foot down. The entire foot. Buh-BAM! Feel the wrath of these size seven ass-kickers!

“Oh, do I, now?” he replies blandly, pursing his lips as his eyebrows lift menacingly.

“Oh, dear God...”

Don’t you dare back down you badass bitch. He might be a sexy, dominating he-beast but he’s a recuperating sexy, dominating he-beast that needs to listen to medical advice so his sexy ass can heal!

I mentally pull up my big girl panties and lay it into him. “Yup... yes... yes you do,” I reply, trying and failing to usher him back into the living room. The big brute just stands there like a sexy statue all imposing... and... dominating... and...

Paging Doc McStuffins, you’re needed STAT. There’s a woman here with a slick as fuck vajayjay and there’s only one cure !

“Stop it,” I demand, forcing my libido to stay on topic for once in her damn life, regardless of those she’s chosen to surround herself with.

It’s pointless but a girl’s gotta try. “You.” I point to Cole, a sad attempt at intimidation when I’m a total of five foot five inches tall and he’s.

... way up there. I lift my chin and rise onto the very tops of my tippy toes to gain a few inches of threatening leverage.

There we go... That’s... better... I guess... No, it’s not. Fuck it. Improvise better bitch!

I’m about to go into the kitchen and retrieve a stool to stand on when he lifts his hands in surrender, angling his body towards the pillow pile.

“Alright, you win. I’m going.” While his steps are slow and guarded, he is moving around better than I thought he would be.

Those jagged scars of his were no joke. Along with the hundreds of other cuts and scrapes, I don’t think I’d want to move around at all.

It’s a testament to how determined he is to make it through this.

To get moving once again. To continue what we set out to do. To finish it once and for all.

With me holding his arm for support, he sinks down to the pillows, groaning the entire descent, until finally, he’s where he’s supposed to be.

Once settled, he turns his face to mine, holding my hand in his as he speaks gruffly against the fabric.

“You can’t baby me forever, you know? I’m not as bad off as I look.

Gotta let me put my big boy pants on sooner or later, princess. ”

“I know. But I’m here... and... you’re here and you’re,” I lift my hands, gesturing to him vaguely, wincing and shaking my head softly, “and I...”

He smiles at my stammering. “And you can’t help yourself. I get it.” He pulls me down, kissing the tip of my nose. “I love you,” he says, staring into my eyes, letting the words sink deep into my soul.

“I love you, more,” I reply, smiling and turning away just as Hawk and Jax barrel through the front door.