Page 37 of Song Bird Hearts (Green River Hearts #4)

Valerie

W olf tries not to wince when I press the gauze to his ribs. He fails.

“You’re not made of stone, you know,” I mutter, eying the swelling across his torso. “Even if you act like it.”

“You should see the other guy,” he rasps, his voice dry, but his lips twitching in what might have been a smile if he wasn’t trying so hard not to pass out.

“Don’t tempt me to go find him and get his side of the story,” I shoot back, smiling.

Wolf’s eyes flick to mine. “Might be difficult. . . considering he’s dead.”

Ah. Well. . . My hands don’t pause in my ministrations, which. . .maybe that says something about me. I’d known he’d had to do something drastic to get the book he brought me, but I hadn’t really looked too deeply into those feelings. Knowing that he’d killed for me. . .I kind of like it.

We’re in my bedroom now. Gilden had fetched the first aid kit while muttering something about “boys getting bloody just to prove they’re pretty.” Now he leans against the doorframe, chewing on a toothpick and watching like an amused hawk as Wolf tries his best not to wince at every wound I touch.

My hands are gentle, sure, and so close to his flesh, but his muscles flicker as my hands near each time. Wolf feels different, his body wound tight, tension in every line of his body. He wants me to touch him, but he also dreads my touch. The broken ribs probably don’t help with that.

“Hold still,” I tell him.

“You’re touching a cracked rib, little star. I’d rather fight another cleaner,” he grumbles.

“Big words for someone about to faint,” I tease.

“I don’t faint,” he mutters.

“That’s funny,” Gilden drawls, strolling over. “Because you sure do look like a fainter, mon loup .”

Wolf scowls. “I’m not your wolf.”

“You’re bleeding on her sheets, mon ami . That means you are. We’re one big happy family, remember?” And then because Gilden can’t help himself, he pokes him.

Right in the broken rib.

Wolf lets out a bark of pain that he immediately tries to swallow, going stiff as a board.

I look up sharply. “Gilden.”

“What?” Gilden shrugs, eyes sparkling. “I had to make sure he wasn’t fakin’ it.”

Wolf growls low under his breath and leans back against the wall, his chest rising and falling like every breath costs him something. I give him a pointed look and finish taping him up with careful hands.

“You done torturing me?” he mutters.

“For now,” I say, but my eyes soften. “But only because I’m out of gauze.”

He opens his mouth, but closes it again, not knowing what to say.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with how my hands linger, with Gilden hovering, with Knox watching with eagle eyes from the doorway.

Wolf looks uncomfortable, not because of his wounds, but because we’re all trying to ease his pain.

I glance at Gilden, and I can see he notices it, too, how tense Wolf is because of our attentions.

My lips press into a thin line. “Has anyone ever taken care of you?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” he croaks. “I’m tough.”

I nod. “I know you are.”

As if he needs to add more as evidence, he says, “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” I nod. “But that doesn’t mean you have to. We’re a family now, just like Gilden said. We take care of each other.”

“Family,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering with unshed emotion. The golden color of his eyes is bright even in the dim lighting of the table lamps. “I don’t. . . I’m not sure what that means.”

Gilden’s teasing eyes soften at his words and he glances at me before he speaks.

“Well,” he says, resting a hand gently on Wolf’s shoulder, “families forgive. Even the couillons who keep secrets.”

Wolf frowns. “Just like that?” His eyes trail over to Knox where he stands silently leaning against the wall.

Knox straightens. “If it were me,” he says roughly, “I’d have done the same thing. Maybe not with the same flair, but. . . same result.”

Wolf blinks. “You would?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Knox mutters. “You’re still a pain in my ass.”

I laugh softly at the exchange. “He grows on you,” I say to Wolf, nudging his good shoulder.

“Like black mold,” Gilden says with a grin. “After a category four hurricane.”

“Like music,” I correct, grinning. “You start off unsure, but soon you’re humming along without realizing it.”

Knox meets my eyes and I see the emotion flicker there even if he keeps it locked down tight. The stoic man can’t seem to keep his emotions completely hidden from me anymore, and that makes me feel just a little lighter.

Wolf doesn’t speak. His eyes trace around the room, looking at Gilden, who winks at him. At Knox, who doesn’t smile, but nods once. And then at me. I smile at him and thread my fingers with his.

“I’m a good weapon,” he promises suddenly, and I know he doesn’t understand what a family is. That’s okay. We’ll spend the rest of whatever lifetime I have left teaching him.

“I don’t need a weapon,” I whisper, and his eyes shutter. “I just need you.”

The way his eyes blink, the way his fingers squeeze my hand.

The way Gilden’s presence is behind me, his hand on my shoulder.

The way Knox stands like a silent sentinel, our protector.

The loneliness that has held my heart for so long finally disappears completely.