Page 34 of Violent Skies

“Call her,” I say to Rafe.

“I tried. Phone’s out of service. We have to go down there, Murphy’s in the car.” He backs out of the room and I don’t argue, I just get up and collect some clean clothes completely on autopilot taking the stairs two at a time and turn the knob for the bathroom.

Cress practically jumps out of her skin, a tiny grey towel wrapped around her body, her dark curls soaked and heavy around her face. I swear under my breath and turn my eyes to the ceiling.

“Sorry,” I grumble and she doesn’t say a word, she just steps out of my way.

I turn my head down as she goes, breathing her in and catching sight of a small scar that runs over her shoulder blade. I don’t even realize my fingers reach out, craving the touch, wanting to run them through the droplets of water that pepper her perfect skin, but she snaps her head toward me with a glare that could kill. I retract them carefully, flexing them at my side and when she’s done silently scolding me I watch her walk away without saying another word.

My heart stutters in my chest thinking about all the scars we all carry because of Koa, emotional and physical.

I shower until I can’t see the look on her face anymore and join my brothers in the garage. Murphy is shoving things into the trunk.

“It’s a three hour drive,” Rafe complains and takes something out.

“And I’m not going without all of this, just in case,” Murphy argues and reorganizes the space to include the things Rafe keeps removing.

“Stop,” I tell them both. “Let him bring his shit, get in the car.” I grab my jacket off the chair and throw it in the backseat.

“Can I drive?” Rafe asks, knowing the answer. I glare at him and he shrugs at me as I move around the mustang. “Whatever.” He fights Murphy for a second longer before they start a round of rock paper scissors.

“Get in the car,” I groan and Murphy pops the seat up so Rafe can climb into the back. The drive to Sierra Vista isn’t bad, Murphy makes us stop twice because he’s got the bladder of a toddler, but Rafe doesn’t play any music that makes me want to run us off the road so I consider it a win.

Mostly because between the two of them arguing it left very little time to think about the look on Cress’s face last night after I told her about Koa. In hindsight, the secret was going to come out eventually, but it wasn't exactly in the most gentle of ways. Part of me hopes that she didn’t believe me. Part of me hopes she does.

You.

It’s a tiny word, accidentally said. It slipped past my better judgment into her open hands and she stared at me like I’d ripped her heart out. It’s the truth. Every day I regret letting her turn to Koa, but we were kids. I was stupid.

I am stupid.

“Hey, watch the road, slick,” Rafe clips, slapping his hand against the leather backing of the driver’s seat. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I say, focusing on the highway ahead of us.

“It’s Cress, isn’t it?” he notes. “She’s got everything all shaken up.”

“She’s family,” Murphy scoffs at him, little strands of his dark hair flicking around in the wind that pushes into the car.

“She shut us out. Don’t forget that,.” Rafe warns him and I tense in response.

“Koa died, man. And Riggs…” Murphy dies out. “She was angry. Like, really angry. She didn’t wanna be around any of us.”

“And now she needs help. She’s back, showering in our bathroom, eating our food and giving orders?” Rafe flops against the back seat. “It feels sketchy, like revenge.”

“It’s grief. She was grieving.” I grumble against my better judgement, knowing never to get between these two when they start in on shit.

“We all were.” Rafe grumbles under his breath.

“It’s what Birdie said, Koa would disown us all for leaving her in the cold. Doesn’t matter how much she hates us, she’s desperate. And they’re threatening us now,” Murphy argues. “It’s not just about her anymore.”

“But it is—” Rafe’s voice is tight. “Isn’t it, Riggs?”

I look at him through the rear view mirror and clench my jaw.

“You’ve always bent over backwards for her,” he accuses and I have it in my right mind to throw the car to the curb and beat the audacity from his body. “She says jump, and you’re already in the air.”

A rough growl of warning rips from me and he shrugs.