Melancholy

He nods, walking in. There’s emotion in his eyes, and that’s not something Mack gives away often. We’ve always been close, right from the day he came into our family. I know what me gettin’ stabbed and nearly killed would have done to him.

“There was a second there, just a fuckin’ second...” he looks away. “When I thought I’d lost you.”

I stare at him, a strange swelling rising in my throat that has my voice halting. Fuck. Emotion.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “Well...you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He laughs hoarsely. “Nah.”

His eyes flick to Santana and he shakes his head. “You know, that girl held herself in a way you’d be fuckin’ proud of. Not one tear, not one breakdown. Even when your body was put next to her, she didn’t lose her shit. She held on like a God damned trooper.”

I squeeze the tiny body next to mine. “Yeah, well, she just lost it all then. I let her. Poor kid. She must be fuckin’ beside herself.”

“She thought she’d lost you, but she never stopped tryin’ to fight for your every breath.”

“No, don’t imagine she would have.”

“We left a fuckin’ mess back there, boss. I don’t know how much shit we’re going to have come back at us for this.”

There’ll be shit. A lot of it. We’ll sort it, we always do.

“Don’t worry about that now, we’ll have a meetin’ as soon as I’m out. Figure out our next move. Those Tinmen fuckers are goin’ to pay for that set up.”

He nods, his face tight. “Fuckin’ yeah they are.”

Santana shifts and I grit my teeth as her elbow brushes against my broken ribs.

“You want me to take her home?”

I shake my head. “She needs this, leave her.”

“She’s hurtin’ you – she won’t want that.”

I give him a hard look. “I said leave her.”

He nods. “Well, I’m goin’ to go home and fuckin’ sleep for ten days. Good to see you better.”

He reaches out and I shake his hand. “Thanks. You did me fuckin’ proud out there.”

I watch his body flinch, but he doesn’t say anything. He just flashes me the smile that never reaches his eyes, and leaves.

I tuck Santana into my side further, pain and all, and I sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

2014 - Santana

One Week Later

“Don’t be such a baby,” I say, waving the brush around.

Maddox gives me a glare so hard I would usually run with my tail between my legs, but he’s an invalid right now. He’s got nothing. His hair, however, looks like it’s about to form into dreadlocks and unless he wants to let me shave it all off, he’s going to have to let me brush it.

This isn’t going down well.

“No fuckin’ way are you brushin’ my hair like I’m some sort of fuckin’...woman.”

I snort. “No one is watching, no one will know. You need to brush it and you can’t lift your arm enough to do it...so it’s me or the clippers.”

He narrows his eyes, ice blue burning into me.

“Well...” I say, tapping my foot, waving the brush again.

“Shave it off.”

I roll my eyes. “No way. Your hair is super hot.”

“Don’t wanna be super fuckin’ hot. I wanna shave it the fuck off.”

“Stop swearing, move so I can brush it.”

“No,” he grunts.

He’s sitting up in the bed, still in his hospital attire, which he really really hates. It’s the only thing that doesn’t interfere with all the bandages, though. He’s feeling better, but he has to be here for another few days before they’ll let him go. As you can imagine, this hasn’t gone down well. He’s like a bull in a china shop, scaring everything that comes near him and breaking things on a daily basis.

Broody asshole.

I’m glad I’ve got him back.

“Come on, I won’t tell.”

“They’ll fuckin’ know when my hair looks like it belongs on a fuckin’ cover of a magazine because you’ve brushed it so fuckin’ much it’s shinin’.”

I huff. “Wrong, I’ll just stop it forming into a rats nest.”

“Cut it off.”

“Maddox...”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I sigh and throw my hands up. “You stubborn fool. I’m not cutting your fucking hair off.”

“Don’t swear at me, woman.”

A nurse enters the room, staring at both of us. “Ah, sorry,” she says, her cheeks flushing when she catches sight of Maddox. She’s new; I guess she hasn’t experienced his royal hotness yet. “It’s...ah...I mean...”

Oh for fucks sakes, she’s stuttering.

“Can we help you?” I say, staring at her with a hard expression.

“The doctor has said Maddox can shower today, so ah, I’m here to help him. It’s my...ah...job.”

Help him?

Oh hell no.

“Help him?” I say, my voice a little squeaky.

“Yes, in the shower...”

“I don’t think so,” I growl.

Maddox is grinning, the son-of-a-bitch. I glare at him, which only makes those gorgeous dimples pop out on his cheeks.

“It’s nothing personal, ma’am,” she assures me. “It’s just he’ll need help.”