Perfect Chaos(27)

“I can look after myself.” Stupid ass thing to say, but my head was fogged up something good and I was floundering.

“You’re living in pixie land if you think you can.” Yeah, this was a little more than Deck being pissed. This was Deck taking control of a situation he didn’t like—my situation.

Deck sighed and it was a strange sound coming from him. Actually, it didn’t suit him at all. “Georgie, I’ve been watching and doing nothing about this for a long time. Now, I’m doing something. Don’t have a choice here.”

My breath stopped. A part of me knew exactly what he was talking about. I pushed it too far. He warned me yesterday to find a balance. I went right off the scale. Shit. I drank so much I poisoned myself. What had I been thinking chugging it back like it was grape juice? I hadn’t been thinking. I knew I had to be drunk to fit the cover story and I’d gone overboard because … well, because after the purge I wanted to drown in darkness.

Vic was supposed to find me drunk at the cemetery, take me back to my place and then I would crash for a few days.

“You drink that entire bottle of scotch?”

Oh, fuck. I didn’t remember, but I sure as hell felt like I had. I chugged it back in the car before Tanner got to the cemetery. I remember Tanner taking it from me at some point. “Deck—”

“Jesus, Georgie.” Deck turned away and I again tried to get up, but he heard me and said, “Don’t move.”

I halted, plopping back down, which made me wince because of the cuts on my back. He noticed it and looked at me over his shoulder then scowled. “Deck, it was Connor’s—” He walked over and grabbed the doctor’s chart off the door. Shit.

“I don’t give a fuck what crap was fucking with your head. I should’ve seen this coming. I did see this coming.” He flipped the page, read, then looked up at me. “You should be dead.”

“I’m not.” It was a sass reply, and I should’ve been keeping the sass toned down right about now. What I had to do was get him away from the chart. “Hey sweetpea, can you get me some ice-cream? My throat is so friggin’ raw and I’d love—” I knew the second he read the doctor’s notes concerning the cuts on my back.

He froze. I saw the tightening of his muscles, the way his hands squeezed the clipboard. Then he tossed it on the plastic chair and without a word, strode toward the bed. I grabbed the edges of the sheet and pulled it up to my chin.

With one yank, he had it out of my grip and at the foot of the bed. “Deck—”

“Turn over or I’ll turn you over.”

I’d never seen him so mad as he leaned over, his fists pressed into the mattress on either side of me. I may live this life of lies, but Deck was real. Unlike me, every word out of his mouth was the truth. If I didn’t turn over myself, he’d make me.

The second I did, he untied the thin tie, which did a shit job of keeping my gown from showing my ass and yanked it open. Then I felt one of the bandages being lifted and it was as if I could feel his shock vibrating through the mattress into me. “Deck, it’s not what you think.” Shit, how was I supposed to explain the cuts? I had to play the part, yet all I wanted to do was scream the truth.

But I couldn’t. There were rules and severe consequences for breaking those rules.

He was quiet, and I lay completely still. There was nothing to fight or lie about or pretend. He knew it was impossible for me to put the cuts on myself. Holy fail.

“Who did it?”

I pulled at the numbness, desperate to hide behind the safety of its shield, but with Deck, it was as if I was trying to pull down a steel blind that weighed a thousand pounds. My only escape was my sassy mouth. “His name is Pine and he smells delicious, but he’s a little sticky around his core.” He scowled and I quickly tried to explain. “Sexy, I jumped out of the second floor window of my bedroom onto a pine tree. You want to go chop him down for cutting me up, because I’m thinking it wasn’t his fault and the tree police will be after you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.” I knew it was a long shot. Tyler or Josh might have let it slide, but Deck … not a chance. He didn’t skim the doc’s report; he’d have read word for word and no doubt it suggested the wounds were made with a knife. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

My best defense right now was silence. I had no choice. I hated it. The lying to him. Seeing the rage in his eyes. But I’d never risk losing him—ever. I’d do whatever it took.

“You’re getting help.” Deck’s words hit me like a punch to the stomach and my eyes widened with panic.