Page 69 of Vandal Unbound

“He didn’t tell me,” I say, but then realize it sounds like I care more than I do. “I mean, I’m not complaining. He hasn’t said a lot this week.”

Knox raises an eyebrow. “For the record, he said he was grateful you didn’t make it harder for him to deal with this.”

“And he’s right, he shouldn’t be worrying about me. Not right now. I’m sorry I’m giving mixed signals. I’m worried about him and want him to focus on getting better, but I’m also just a girl who kinda thought he might text.”

Knox smiles sadly. “He’s Van. Worrying about everyone else is easier for him than worrying about himself. He doesn’t know who he is right now because he’s lost a hold on that.”

“Does he seem…okay?”

Knox’s cut shifts over his shoulders as he cracks his neck to one side. “He’s been sleeping like shit. Got a lot of anger to work through. And he’s embarrassed he’s angry. But he’s holding onto hope.”

I pick at the corner of a beer mat. “Hope of what?”

“Not for me to say. I think a man’s hopes and dreams are the kind of shit he should reveal himself.”

The noise of the bar carries on around us. Glasses clink together. Rock music continues to play. Low voices carry at a grumble. And I want to ask a hundred more questions.

Is he eating right? Was his head hurting? Is his vision okay? Has he talked to anyone about what happened to him? Has he said my name? Has he asked about Elsie?

Instead, I asked the one thing that has been sitting in my chest for days. “Why are you looking out for us?”

Knox’s expression doesn’t change. “For you and Elsie?”

I release the beer mat. “Yes.”

“The easy answer is it’s because you needed looking out for.”

I give him a look. “You and I both know that that isn’t the answer.”

Knox has the audacity to chuckle. “It is from where I'm sitting.”

“It’s more than just that. Groceries have appeared at my door.”

He shrugs. “Useful things, groceries.”

“Sunny fixed the light over my front door.”

“Sunny can be useful too.”

I shake my head. “Maren babysat Elsie. Twice. By your account, you should be called theUsefulOutlaws, not Iron ones.”

He takes a slow drink from his beer, then sets the glass down. “It’s because we take care of our own. And that’s what good neighbors do.”

The words settle around me quietly. “I’m not in the club.”

“No,” Knox says. “But Van is. And you’re one of the most important people Van has.”

I don’t have an answer for that.

Knox rests his forearms on the bar. “You’re not a job, Daisy. You’re not charity. No one is keeping a scorecard.” Something shifts in his face. Not pity. Thank God, because I hate pity. But understanding, maybe like he knows where I’m coming from before I have to say a word.

“Thank you.”

“The club isn’t always clean,” he says. “We’re not saints. Don’t put that on us. But when one of ours is trying to claw his way back to himself, we don’t leave the people he cares about standing alone.”

My throat tightens.

“And he cares about you,” Knox says. “He cares about Elsie. Anyone with eyes can see that.”