Page 97 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Any news on her condition?” I ask, but he shakes his head with regret brimming in his eyes.

“Alive and unconscious. That’s all I can say,” the cop says, waltzing away from us and observing the scene with the three other officers standing in a semi-circle around the blood-soaked pavement, talking in low tones.

“Take me to the hospital with you,” Ode says, popping out of nowhere with tears flowing from her eyes. “TAKE ME!” she shouts through her emotions, earning a side hug from Rad. He whispers something in her ear, and her shoulders sag.

“Let’s go,” I grumble with a sigh, worrying about the girl floating in an ambulance toward the hospital and the man in theback of a cop car for finally beating the tar out of Van—the stupid idiot who can’t seem to let go.

“You two go to the damn hospital and monitor River. I have to bail out my stupid brother,” I say through gritted teeth. “Take me home first? Gotta grab the damn Tahoe.”

“Take some of our saved band money if you have to,” Rad says, leading Ode into the backseat of the Tahoe and shutting the door. “It’s in the house.” I nod, remembering the place where we hid all our savings.

“Yeah,” I gripe, jumping into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll do that.”

The entire ride home, listening to Ode cry in the backseat, the scene plays over and over in my head. We went from zero to a million in five seconds flat. Now, I have a brother who sits in jail. Another brother who won’t listen to our words without music in his ears and tears in his eyes. Another brother who, as we speak, cries hysterically as he steers the car along the road, heading to the hospital. And at the center of it all, a broken girl who they’ve all fallen head over heels in love with—me included.

Fuck.

Today has beena shit show of epic proportions on so many levels. The weight of everything that’s happened in the span of twenty-four hours barrels down on me, sitting heavily on my chest and shoulders. Leaning back, I rest my head against the cold, textured wall, drawing in air. It’s all I can do to ground myself and stay in the moment. If I don’t, her lifeless body, covered in blood spatters, comes back to mind and tortures me all over again.

Seeing River bruised up like that, has me twisted into knots and so goddamn conflicted. Half of me wants to scoop her up, fix her, and soothe her discomfort. The other half of me wants to keep her at arm’s length to protect the band in case it all goes sideways like today. One horrific injury has them clawing at the walls like feral animals.

The large waiting room in the emergency department of Central Memorial Hospital is stifling. Rogue coughs from others waiting float through the air, mixed with whimpers and complaints. Jesus. My skin crawls with the onslaught of germscrawling all over the place. I’d rather lick the urinal at Dead End than sit in this germ-infested cesspool.

Fuck. I need fresh air. But I can’t leave Kieran. He’s on the brink of losing his mind, and I need to catch him when he falls. As cliche as it sounds, I’ll always catch my brother when he falls with open arms—any of them. They’re my family, and I’d give my life for them and risk it all.

My eyes narrow when police officers waltz into the emergency department with their heads held high, flashing their badges. My eyes follow their every move, wondering what they’re doing. If they’re here to interrogate River, they have another thing coming.

“We got a call on a stabbing victim,” one of them says in a faint voice, but it carries through the room.

The nurse behind the desk clicks her nails against the keyboard of her computer and nods.

“Oh, yes. The patient is in room 30B, but be advised, he’s very combative. It’s superficial, but whoever did it to him accomplished whatever they needed.” Her voice trails off when she leads the officers down the long hallway and beeps them into the official emergency department.

I rub my chin, watching through the doors for any sign of River. Secretly, I hope she comes marching through those doors with a grin, telling us it was all a joke, and we can all go home. It’s wishful thinking on my part to hope she wasn’t injured so badly. So, I’ll support the band and make sure my Little Brat pulls through.

By the time Kieran and I showed up to the waiting room, Ode had gone back with River, apparently claiming she was her sister. Leaving us out here waiting and waiting with no updates, which is all fine and dandy if Kieran, Rad, and Callum weren’t falling apart at the fucking seams.

Kieran leans his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands, constantly fidgeting. He hasn’t uttered a word since we left the police station. And I haven’t either.

All this consuming rage builds inside me like a fucking storm. Here I am, deathly afraid Kieran’s about to burst when I’m the one on edge. Someone put their fucking hands on my Little Brat for no good reason, and someone is going to die with my hands wrapped around their throat.

Van may have been present after the fact, bent over her after the assault, but I have doubts it was him in the back of my mind. Was he involved? Possibly. Maybe? Who the hell knows?

Speaking of… My eyes narrow into slits when I gaze at the suspect sitting as far as humanly possible from Kieran, holding an ice pack on his face with a grimace. Every few seconds, his eyes stray this way with fear tinting them.

Good.

He should be fucking afraid of what Kieran will do if he keeps sniffing around what he’s marked as his. Van had his chance, and he blew it. It’s pathetic as fuck when grown men can’t take no for an answer.

Time and time again, River has blown him off, telling him no. So, why he’s here, sitting in the waiting room, still blows my fucking mind. The audacity this asshole has to cling on like a leech dangling from my ass cheek baffles my too-tired brain.

I close my eyes and heave a breath. This has been the longest night and earliest morning yet, but there’s still more to come. Kieran and I may be over eighteen and adults, but we didn’t check in or make it home last night. Sure, Nigel allows—and I use that word loosely—us to play gigs until three a.m., staying out to fulfill our hobby. But make no mistake, there will be hell to pay when we finally crawl home.

Nigel

We’ll have a very long discussion when you two get home.

I roll my lips together, reading the text message repeatedly. He sent it six hours ago when I walked Kieran from the police station. My stomach rolls and knots all at once. Kieran and I are up shit creek without a paddle the moment we walk through the threshold of our front door.