Page 32 of Ruptured

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

“She’s my woman. I love her. I just don’t like her most of the time. She has a syndrome I can’t abide.”

“Gypsy’s sick?” Maybe, that explained her fucked up behavior.

Snickering, Derby nodded and started back away. “Do you know you’re as tall as me now?”

“What’s wrong with her?” CJ demanded, ignoring Derby’s question.

“Take a guess.”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“It’s called Stupid Bitch-itis, compounded by desperation. Pathetic, too.”

Unable to find words, CJ dropped his mouth open, remaining silent even as Derby’s laughter floated to him.

“Fucking asshole!”

Turning, CJ left the bank of elevators and walked into the main hallway. Instead of going straight like Gypsy and Derby, he went right and soon reached the hospital’s sitting area situated right outside the cafeteria. Suddenly, all eyes were on him.

“How’s Meggie?”

“Any news on Reb?”

“When are they leaving?”

“Where’s Outlaw?”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Outlaw okay?”

Brothers fired off questions to CJ in rapid succession. So fast he couldn’t identity the speaker or answer one before another came his way. He paused at the edge of the cafeteria, near the pizza and hot sandwich stations. It disappointed him that all the tables were taken. Not that it mattered. The club members needed answers.

He cleared his throat, scanning the crowd, not addressing anyone in particular. “Mom’s healing. Reb’s okay. She doesn’twant to see anyone. I’m not sure of their release date. Dad’s upstairs. He’ll be down for dinner.”

Somehow, CJ managed cordiality, when he only wanted coffee and to be left alone.

Uncle Mort’s talk with CJ helped to ease him, although not completely. Gypsy’swhatever, Diesel’s insanity, and Bishop’s fib were all periphery but couldn’t block the guilt of what had happened and CJ’s role in it. Deep down, he knew Rule’s attack was partially his fault. A few weeks ago, when Rule pulled a knife on Rebel, CJ dismissed it as his brother’s bad temper, instead of telling their parents.

Everyone fell silent, so he roamed from the drink, fresh fruit, and cold sandwich cases to the pizza, comfort food, and taco stations. He looked at the pastries, candy, and chips, the silence as overwhelming as the questions.

By the time CJ reached the counter to pay for his coffee, donut, and banana, a table miraculously opened. He loped to it and sat in one of the two chairs, wanting normality. Conversation not questions. Worried about another barrage of questions, he took his cell phone from his pocket. A diversionary tactic he rarely used, but one he leaned into just then. Besides Rebel, he only wanted to text Harley, and he couldn’t. He wouldn’t…

Sighing, he logged onto Ridge Moore’s app and went to his dashboard, the first time in months he willingly pulled up his student account.

Late lesson after late lesson populated. Glaring zeroes for assignments and the word ‘failed’ for quizzes and tests taunted him.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, throwing his phone aside and scrubbing a hand over his face.

Setting his elbows on the table, he hung his head, still so exhausted. He was too tall to curl up on the window seat and thechair in Mom’s room wasn’t the most comfortable, so he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“CJ?”

Harley’s voice washed over him and his heart started pounding. He ached to take her in his arms and hug her. A part of him longed to have a reason to excuse her behavior. When there was none. She’d handed him unnecessary bullshit.

“What, Harley?” Even to his own ears, he sounded so fucking harsh. His fear and pain lowered his guard, left him vulnerable to her, since he wanted,needed, his best friend. She’d find words to soothe him. Or the old her. Now? He knew better. Severity was his only defense so he wouldn’t fall back into her trap. “What do you want?”