Page 31 of Song Bird Hearts (Green River Hearts #4)

Valerie

W hite Stag is silent when we roll up into the drive.

Not quiet, literally silent. The kind of silence that follows a storm, or a funeral.

Not everyone has come back from the Boot Skoot yet.

John stayed behind to help secure the scene and take care of any paperwork that comes with having to shoot three attackers that didn’t survive.

Plenty of people stayed with the Sheriff to make sure those who were injured were okay.

We were lucky.

There were only a few injuries, where bullets had caught those running out. A gunshot to the leg, one to the arm. A few people were hurt in the stampede. But there were no deaths. My own arm sports a nasty bullet graze, but it’s nothing compared to some of the other injuries.

We were escorted back to White Stag by a crowd of comforting onlookers, familiar faces mixed with strangers, ones I’ve never been more thankful for.

These people are here for me, their supportive aura the only thing keeping me from calling it quits for everyone else’s benefit.

They can shoot at me, but the moment my friends are in danger, I wonder if I actually made a mistake. Just like Knox said it was.

The lights in the house are low as we walk inside.

Tension crackles through the air like static, setting my nerves on fire.

I step down from the truck John had let us borrow, my heart hammering in my chest. Blood is starting to soak through my shirt sleeve.

It’s not much, just enough to remind me what had nearly happened.

I don’t need reminding.

Knox steps down from the driver’s side and slams the door shut hard enough to make Kevin snort in protest from where he’s sitting on the front porch, his soft happy sounds at the sight of me like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” Knox asks without looking at me.

“Upstairs in my room,” I answer quietly. “Top shelf of the closet.”

I follow him as he storms up the stairs. Whatever tension is in Knox’s shoulders makes the others tense. They decide to wait downstairs for us, so when I walk into my room, it’s only the two of us as he shoves open the doors of my closet and looks around for the kit.

He doesn’t say anything as he looks, just stands with his shoulders coiled tight, like he’s just barely holding himself together. The room is as dim as the rest of the house, the only light on the table lamps.

“Do you need me to turn on the light?” I ask, reaching for the switch.

He doesn’t answer, so I flick it on and watch as he finds the kit and drags it down. I sit on the edge of the bed and try to roll my long sleeve up only to realize I can’t. He’s gonna have to get to the wound, so I make a split-second decision.

“Sorry,” I murmur, before reaching for the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head, leaving me sitting there in only my bra.

Knox stumbles to a stop for a split second before he continues forward.

No words fall from his lips. It’s just the same tight-jawed silence from before as he kneels in front of me and opens the first aid kit.

He rummages around inside for a few things while I sit there, staring at him.

The only sound is from him moving things around the box and the creak of the others downstairs walking around on the hardwood.

The sting of the antiseptic on my arm isn’t what makes me flinch. It’s the way he touches me, so carefully, tender in a way that doesn’t match the storm in his expression.

“You gonna say somethin’?” I ask softly, watching him.

He’d sung a song to me before this all went down, and now, he can’t even meet my eyes.

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps working, cleaning up my arm before wrapping the gauze around it. He cuts the tape and makes sure it’s fastened well enough it won’t fall off. Only when he’s done does he finally look at me, his eyes black with fury.

“You could’ve died,” he says, that anger slamming into me like a boot to the guy. “For a goddamn message.”

“It wasn’t just a message,” I reply back, my own fire rising to meet his. “It was me. My life. My freedom. If I don’t have that, what the hell do I have?”

“You have us!” he growls, voice breaking like glass. “You have people willing to die to keep you breathing, and you stood on that stage like you didn’t give a shit what it cost!”

“According to you, I don’t have you at all,” I point out bitterly.

His face twists with anger because I’m right. “You’re playin’ with people’s lives?—”

“You think I didn’t know the cost? You think I wasn’t terrified?” I stand, my voice rising to match his. “I did it anyway, because there’s no other option. I’m not some little girl waiting for someone to save me.”

“I never said you were?—”

“You didn’t have to! You treat me like I’m made of glass, like I should be up high on a shelf, looked at and never touched.” My face twists. “I’m so tired of being on a shelf,” I choke out. “I’m not made for that.”

“This isn’t a fucking shelf! This is life, goddamn it!” he snarls. “What if that bullet had been six inches closer? You willin’ to die for all this?”

“Damn right I am!” I growl. “For my freedom, for the ability to be who I am and not have anyone take that away from me? Damn right I’m willin’ to die for it!”

He shakes his head and bares his teeth at me. “I knew this was a mistake?—”

“Stop treatin’ me like a child!” I shout at him and for good measure, I thump him on the chest. So what if my arm stings at the action. “I can handle all of this!”

“You can’t even handle me,” he barks, towering over me. “Let alone this bullshit!”

“I can!” I hiss. “If you’d just let me!”

“You can’t!” he roars. “Stop pretending like this is a game you’re tryin’ to win. You don’t even know what I’ve done, Trouble! I’ve put bullets in men’s heads and smiled. I’ve done things you can’t even imagine just to get paid. I’m not some goddamn fairytale bodyguard!”

“So run from your emotions,” I demand. “Like always. Nice, stoic Knox Holloway, refusing to feel anything at all.”

“I was fine!” he spits. “I was perfectly fine being numb. It was good.” His next words are spit through his teeth. “Until you .”

We’re too close now. When had I gotten in his face? When had we pressed chest to chest as we yelled at each other? We’re breathing each other in like two fires fighting for oxygen.

“So then feel,” I spit. “Let it out.”

“I can’t,” he grits.

“Why, goddamn it? Why not just let it out?” I narrow my eyes. “Do you need me to explain how I feel so you understand?”

“No, I?—”

“I fucking love you,” I snarl. “All of you. And it’s frustrating that I can’t just let myself fall into that because of all this bullshit with the Foundation.”

“You shouldn’t?—”

“No, fuck you!” I shout, poking him in the chest. “I was almost shot tonight. I could die tomorrow. Hell, I could die in my sleep before the sun rises. So I’m fucking tired of being told who I can be, what I can do, and how I should feel.

I’m not asking you to return the feelings, Knox, but I am asking you to endure it.

” He blinks at me and I continue. “I’m aware how fundamentally selfish that sounds.

I offer you no justification and no argument in its favor.

It’s just what I want, and I want you. So I’m asking you to.

. .” I blink, not realizing I’d started to cry at some point between the beginning of this argument and now.

I reach up and angrily wipe away the tears that slip out.

“You’re askin’ me to watch you die,” he chokes out.

“So what?” I say. “So what? Nothing is forever. Everyone dies. If my decomposing body can at least nourish the roots of a tree or the wings of a vulture, that’s immortality enough for me,” I growl.

“And as much as anyone deserves.” I hit his chest. “It’s my decision.

If you’re gonna leave anyways, if I’m gonna die, then why hold back? ” I shake my head. “Why fight it?”

His expression pinches with pain. “Lovin’ me is gonna haunt you for a lifetime.”

“Yeah, well. . .” I say, stubbornly raising my chin. “Seems like a lifetime may be real short anyways. So big deal.”

“I don’t?—”

“If you don’t feel the same, just say that,” I growl.

“If this is me readin’ into things, then tell me.

” I straighten. “If you weren’t singin’ that song to me, then tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me I’m still just a paycheck, Knox Holloway, and I’ll leave it alone.

” I take a deep breath. “I’ll drop it and never bring it up again. ”

He hesitates and I can see him weighing his options. “My feelings don’t matter.”

“To me, they do,” I say, watching him carefully.

He steps back, his eyes taking in my face and the angry tears trailing down my cheeks.

He starts to shake his head, and I know I’ve lost him.

I know he’s going to lie and tell me I’m just a paycheck and I’ll honor my word.

I’ll walk away from this man and pretend I don’t ache when he’s in the room.

I’ll pretend my eyes don’t follow him when he walks by.

“If you hate me, just say that,” I whisper. “I’ll understand.”

He pauses, his eyes taking in my expression. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

He grits his teeth. “I don’t hate you, Trouble.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I can’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I grumble, crossing my arms and looking away.

“No. No!” he growls. “Don’t do that. You know I don’t hate you.”

“Do I?” I ask.