Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,41

story. Just know I’m fucked up, okay?”

“Jo love, we’re all fucked up. In our own way, every person in this house is one-hundred shades fucked in the head. You’ve met Tongue, right? I can’t be the only person who sees the crazy.”

I know he’s trying to take my mind off the pinch of pain in my arm, but it isn’t working. I hiss, jerking my arm away from him, and his hand grips my elbow softly, stopping me from doing more damage to myself. My elbow almost hits the rail. Those are quick reflexes. “You can’t do that, Jo. If I have to do your stitches again, your arm is going to look like hamburger meat. I know it sucks, but stay still for me, okay?”

His fingers graze along my wrist a few times, igniting the spark in my belly that I feel whenever he’s around. We’ve done this dance for a while now. The kind where we know we’re looking at one another and feel the energy pulsing between us, but we turn our heads and ignore it. He knows he’s better off without me, and instead of giving in, he pulls away.

I’m toxic, a deadly injection right in the veins.

It’s who I am. It’s what I do. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to be that way. I want to be the good someone turns over for in the morning. I want to be the shot of happiness slipping down someone’s throat.

I’ve been Cyanide for far too long, and I’m tired of killing everything in my path, including myself.

He carefully loops the bandages around my arms, applying the right amount of pressure, not too tight, not too loose. When he’s done, he intertwines his fingers with mine, brows furrowed in concentration as he stares at our hands. The touch seems to be hurting him with how tight his face is. Eric clicks the rail down, leans his elbows on the bed, and wraps his other hand around ours fists, then brings them to his forehead. “You scare the hell out of me,” he admits. “So reckless when you don’t even know your worth.”

“You don’t know it either.”

He brings his eyes to mine and lays his soft lips against my knuckles, then holds our hands to his cheek. “I know enough. I know you’re more than what you give yourself credit for.”

“Don’t act like you know anything about me, Eric. If you knew, you wouldn’t waste your time.”

He exhales and leans away in his chair, still holding his hand in mine. “That. That right there. I don’t understand why you do that. Why do you cut yourself down? You aren’t time wasted. You aren’t something to be thrown away, Jo. Give a damn!”

“Why?” I whisper, feeling the need to cut myself again. Maybe when no one is looking, I can slip into the bathroom and relieve some tension. The insides of my thighs are barely marked. I can try there. I need it.

“Because I give a damn, Jo. I give a damn about you. Do you know how hard it is to care about someone who doesn’t care about themselves?”

“Yes,” I whisper, thinking about my dad, thinking about Eric.

Eric puts on a good show, but I see it.

People who are damaged can see through other damaged people. His soul is sutured, holding together the pieces that matter, that have a fraction of humanity.

You know what’s so dangerous about stitches?

They can come undone and slowly the agony leaks out, weakening you day by day until there’s nothing left.

He’s about to say something when the monitor next to him starts to go berserk. Eric spins around and flies out of the chair, running toward Patrick’s bedside.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with him?” Sunnie says, the tears come roaring to life again and sprinkle down her face. “What’s wrong with him?”

Eric unlocks the wheels and rolls him into the surgical room. “Stay out here, Sunnie. I’ll update you when I know more.” He disappears into the room, the door closing behind him. Sunnie bangs on metal, hysterical.

“Let me in, Doc! I swear if you don’t let me in, I’ll cut you with your own scalpel,” she shouts, flattening her palms as she smacks the door. “Let me in, please,” Sunnie sobs. “I need to know he’s okay,” she says weakly.

“Come here,” I say with soft urgency and hold out my hand.

Sunnie doesn’t want to leave the door but gives it one last look before walking over to me. She plops down, and