The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,199

need a win.”

Mmm. Sleep. That does sound good.

“Come on, Trin.”

How can I say no?

I force my eyelids open. They’re heavy, fluttering like a downed butterfly. Too-bright light spears into my head. “Ow.” I choke out hoarsely, squeezing my eyes shut again.

“Hey! You’re back!” Another squeeze to my hand. “Fuck yeah.” Something brushes my cheek. “Okay, so let me fill you in, right? I was chasing after Gabriel, and—”

“Apollo, enough.” A shiver chases through me when I recognize that deliciously low and rumbly voice.

Reuben.

I force my eyes open to slits and move my head to try and find him.

He’s standing opposite Apollo, on the other side of my hospital bed. As I catch sight of him, he wraps his hand around mine. So warm and tight.

“Welcome back,” he says quietly. “I hope you had pleasant dreams.”

“Course she did,” another voice says, the speaker out of sight. “Because she was dreaming about us. Weren’t you, darlin’?”

I have to tip my head forward to see Cass. He’s lounging in a chair pushed to one wall, but he stands and comes closer when we lock eyes.

“What happened?”

The last thing I remember is taking Gabriel to the bell tower. How he found the photo. And then…him shoving me against the wall. I hit it hard—is that why I’m here? I shiver violently, and Apollo immediately tugs the thin hospital blanket at my feet all the way up to my chin.

“Body warmth will work better,” Cass says, giving me a lopsided grin.

“Cut it out,” Rube demands, throwing him a faint scowl. Then his eyes are back on me. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.”

“Anesthesia,” Apollo says. “It’ll wear off.”

Rube squeezes my hand. “They said you can come home tomorrow.”

“Home?” My mind flashes back to that tiny, cramped room at Saint Amos. To the Brotherhood’s lair where Zach shoved a knife between my legs and told me he’d fuck me with it if I showed my face again. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“Not your house,” Apollo says through a chuckle, making no sense. “Our house!”

“He means our hotel room,” Rube says dryly, but looking at Apollo, not me.

“It’s where we live,” he says, shrugging. “What else am I supposed to call it?”

“It’s not home. Not even close.” Cass runs his fingers over the top of my foot. “But it’ll be a far sight better with you in it, that’s for sure.”

Anywhere’s better than that horrible school. I smile at Cass. At Rube. At Apollo. I get another peck on my cheek from Apollo, and Rube starts massaging my hand. I lift my left hand, and stare at the mass of bandages over it. When Rube catches my puzzled look, he shakes his head and gives me a faint smile. “Dislocated thumb. But it’ll heal just fine.”

When did that happen?

He ducks down, presses his lips to my forehead. Whispers, “You’ll heal just fine, Trinity.”

I let out a happy sigh, but that beautiful moment only lasts a second. I wriggle a little to sit up taller, and crane to look around the room.

Someone’s missing. Did Zach stay away on purpose? He’s made it clear he hates me, so I wouldn’t be surprised. But that hasn’t stopped him hanging around with me before. Honestly, I’d have thought he’d have enjoyed being here, especially if there was a chance to see me in pain. That’s what he gets off on, right? Pain?

But now that I’m looking, I notice an edge to the brothers. A grimness to their smiles. Shadows under their eyes. It’s not the kind of concern you get from someone who bumped their head against a wall.

What aren’t they telling me?

“Where’s Zach?”

When their eyes drop in unison, so does my stomach. Right to the fucking floor.

It makes no sense. He hates me, and I’m terrified of him. But the thought that something’s happened to him, it scares me more than that knife up my skirt ever could.

Because I know he’d hurt me…but never more than I could take.

Knowing that, I shouldn’t have run off that morning and gone to Gabriel, but I’d thought Zachary would change. I thought being with him, with all of them, would make things different. Like I was sprinkling magic pixie dust on them.

I’m worse than a hopeless romantic. I’m a fucking fool.

No one’s going to change just like that. And these men? Probably never. The damage done to them is too deep. It may have scarred over, but those scars are permanent.

Instead of trying to change them, I should