Fighter (Coffee Shop #4) - Katie Cross Page 0,13

His breathing was fast. I grabbed my phone and slipped it into my back pocket.

Talmage was two years older than me. We were born close enough that we'd hated and loved each other deeply while growing up. Despite being from the same family, he towered over my five-and-a-half foot tall frame at a stocky six feet. His once thick shoulders had made him even more frightening, but he'd lessened in muscle since the injury at work that had put him into multiple surgeries. That didn't lessen his sheer brawn. Like Daddy, he was a big guy. He was twenty-seven, and I was twenty-five, but he looked more like fifty these days.

“Tal,” I said and propped a hip against the counter. “I'm sorry. Let's get this figured out, all right?”

“Get my meds.”

“I just refilled them a few days ago. Did you lose them?”

“No.” His nostrils flared. “They're gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone!” he shouted. “Gone. They're gone, gone, gone. I'm a big guy. They're not prescribing me enough.”

My mind spun, startled at this new argument. I found my keys in my pocket and threaded them through my fingers, just in case, the way Ben had taught me. Did I want to use any moves on Talmage? Of course not. He was my brother. He loved me. I loved him—had once adored him like a hero. He'd always protected me from the mean kids at school, had kept me safe when our parents were gone on a date and I was scared in the house alone.

But right now I could also recognize the monster that had given me the fat lip last week. The same one that had no similarities to the brother I once knew. The brother I came to live with two months ago to help through what should have been his final surgery.

Calm Talmage was nothing like this guy. Dr. Jekyl had returned.

I swallowed a flurry of panic. With every jerky movement he exhibited, I wanted to wince. He'd always had anxiety as a kid. Hated closed spaces, big crowds, or any type of peer pressure. The last few months with unemployment and continuous surgeries had only worsened it.

Today, however, something else had him on edge.

“Have you called your doctor?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What did they say?”

“That I can't have anymore,” he spat. “What do you think? You think they hand that stuff out? I'm freaking useless. Can't work. Can't pay my bills. Can't . . . can't deal with this pain. I just . . . I just need a few more to get me through today.”

He didn't stop moving, but rubbed a hand across his chest now. Sweat beaded on his brow. My gaze dropped to a pile of papers on the counter. One of them was a torn envelope. The red lines of an overdue hospital bill decorated one of the papers that spilled out. My throat tightened.

“Let's get you some ibuprofen.”

He scoffed, wiping at his forehead. “Waste of time. You know it doesn't do anything.”

His last surgery had been six weeks ago. He should have been weaned off the meds in the weeks after. The first surgery had been much easier. The second had been the worst, with the longest recovery time and the hardest pain management. After that came a fast third, now fourth surgery.

And Talmage was a totally different person.

“Tal, maybe we should call and get some other help. Maybe this is something else?” I said the words gently, but he turned on me anyway. His eyes were unfocused as he barreled toward me.

“You don't know what this feels like!”

I ducked the first clumsy blow, an open slap likely meant to punt me out of his way, but the swinging fist that followed caught me right in the ribs and robbed my breath. I dropped to my knees with a gasp.

Benjamin hadn't covered this. Or had he? My mind suddenly fractured, and all I could think about was air.

He stomped a foot onto my side and shoved me to the ground. Pain wired through my body, hot and fast as lightning. I struggled to regain breath, too weak to shove him off when he pressed a foot into my chest. An audible crack sounded seconds before pain shot through my body again. My breath rushed back all at once, exacerbating the heat. I slammed a fist into his calf to get him to move, but his leg was too heavy. He leaned too much weight into it.

He didn't even notice.

“You know nothing,” he growled.

Seconds later, I was pinned against

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