in the lobby that want to speak to you, something about you’ve been missing for weeks...”
“Oh great! That’s just…great!” I yell to the ceiling.
“You don’t have to talk to them,” she says quietly. “You’re dealing with enough as it is. I could tell them you’re not allowed visitors.”
“Could you really?” I ask.
“Of course. I’ll get you more tissues too.”
“Thank you…for being…so nice...to me,” I tell her between sobs, having to bury my wet face in the hospital sheets to wipe it dry.
“I could find a doctor or a counselor to talk to you if you think that would help?”
“No. I’m fine,” I say, which is the biggest lie of the century. “I’ll be fine,” I amend, even though right now, at this moment, it doesn’t feel like it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Silas
* * *
After Cora yelled at me and made me leave the hospital, I hopped on my bike and then just rode around in the darkness, going nowhere in particular, lost in my goddamn head.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I thought she was actually going to forgive me for lying to her and deceiving her, then this. She blames me for killing our kid, and I figure she’s probably right. Killing is what I was born to do.
Later, in a few days or weeks, she’ll look back and realize she dodged a giant bullet by not having to deal with my evil spawn.
Maybe then she’ll even forgive me. Doubtful, but not entirely impossible; except, what does it matter if she does? She can’t stay here, and I can’t walk away from the MC.
Thinking of the MC is what has me showing up in the middle of nowhere, knocking on the door of Malcolm and Naomi’s old farmhouse in the middle of the night.
“What’s up?” Malcolm snaps when he finally flips on the porch light and opens up.
“Sorry to drop in on you, but we’ve got a problem. Figured you would want to know about it sooner rather than later,” I tell him.
“A problem?” he asks, jabbing his fingers through his bed-mussed hair. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No. Could be a big one.”
“That’s fucking wonderful,” he mutters. “Come in and start talking. But keep your voice down so you won’t wake up Naomi or the baby.”
“Okay,” I agree as I follow him into the farmhouse, inwardly wincing at the b-word. Honestly, I never really thought much about kids before today. I just knew I didn’t want them; I couldn’t imagine passing on my fucked-up genes to someone else. But when I realized Cora was pregnant, being horrified wasn’t really my first thought. I was definitely shocked, but I was also…happy for a second, which was so stupid.
“So, what’s going on?” Malcolm asks when he sits on the edge of sofa, not bothering to get comfortable because he wants to hurry this shit up.
I take a seat in the closest chair to him so I can keep my voice down and he’ll still hear me.
“Cora is back in town,” I start.
“What?” he asks, raising his voice and sitting up straight. “Why the fuck is she back? I thought you made sure she was going to stay put.”
“I thought she would,” I reply. “But, um, she called the FBI office, realized something was up with me, and, ah, then she tracked me down. She showed up at my place tonight and held me at gunpoint.”
“Wow,” Malcolm mutters, rubbing his finger and thumb around his mustache and beard. “She wants you dead, huh?”
“Not really. She’s pissed at me. Turns out I knocked her up, but, um, she just lost it. She’s at the hospital now.”
“Damn, man. She okay?”
“I don’t know. Physically, the doctor says yes. But she was pissed and throwing shit at me, so I think she’s upset for some reason about not having the kid, which doesn’t make sense. Anyway, she won’t go to the cops to turn me in or anything. The problem is, I wasn’t thinking when I checked her in at the emergency room. I gave them her real name. It’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes her as a missing person from the news and the detectives on Nash’s case get involved.”
“Fuck!” Malcolm exclaims, not even bothering to keep his volume down. “We need to let Nash know.”
“Yeah, we do,” I agree.
“And we need to have a meeting to figure out what to do about her.”
“What are you talking about? There’s nothing for the club to figure out! I’ll handle it.”
“You had your chance to ‘handle