Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(105)

"Stop telling me to fucking sit down!" I raised my voice, smacking his table with both palms.

Eleven years ago, Donald Whittaker was finally admitted to the ER after two days of excruciating pain to help him get over the broken nose, two fractured ribs, and several cuts I had caused. He wasn't insured, so Owl and Nina had to pay a ton for his hospital stay. What he didn't know was that the only thing that separated him from death was the preacher's daughter, Tiffany.

Eleven years later, and I wondered who would be the designated Tiffany to save me from doing something to my dad. Something I couldn't take back. Because I wanted to fuck something up real good. And I sure as hell wasn't going to use my girlfriend's body as an outlet this time.

"There's an explanation for all of this." His voice was so low he almost whispered. People stared at us through rims of coffee cups. Dad grabbed me by the bicep and tried to pull me into the seat in front of his chair. I didn't budge.

"Tell me it's a mistake, Eli." The coldness in my voice sent goosebumps down my body.

"It is not a mistake." Eli narrowed his eyes, still composed, still firm, still himself. "You were not a mistake."

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know why my mom was still married to him when he obviously fucked her older sister.

And then it hit me like a speeding truck. I was him.

I was the douchebag who did this. Who came between two sisters. That asshole I flipped the hate switch on? I had all the potential to be him.

"This is how you break it to me?" I spat.

"You shut me down every time I tried getting through to you."

Jesus Christ.

"You're dead to me." And in that moment, it was the truth. "Fucking. Dead. Don't call me. Don't talk to me. Don't even think about me. I won't be thinking of you." Then I stormed to the door and slammed it behind me, bolting to the nearest bar on the block.

I tapped my fist three times over the counter.

"Bartender. Brandy."

And blacked out.





My eyes fluttered open and I groaned, reaching with my hand to touch my temple. There was an annoying sound buzzing in my ear. It sounded like an old car trying to pull through a journey it wasn't meant to do anymore. That was when my eyes grew wide, and I realized I had tubes tucked into my veins. IV drops next to me. Bright room. Fluorescent lights. The whole big hospital show.

Story of my life, and I'm getting tired of the angsty plotline.

"What's going on?" I coughed, even though I had no indication that someone else was there. My fuzzy vision got clearer with every blink. The room was scorching hot, and I wondered who tampered with the thermostat. It was hot and humid enough to fry bacon on my forehead. Mmmm, bacon. I was hungry. That was a good sign, surely.

The machine. It kept on doing that noise that seemed to scrape on my nerves.

Phhhhhhsttttt. Phhhhhhsttt. Phhhhhhsst.

Someone seriously needed to turn it off before I went all Hulk on it.

"You're at the hospital." I heard my sister's voice before I felt her warm hand on mine. Even though I was sweating, my skin still felt bitter-cold against her flesh. I lolled my head to the side, squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them again so I could look at her. My parents were sitting by her side. Three wide-eyed faces, inspecting me like an animal at the zoo.

Her lips came down to my cheek, fluttering over it. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I look, I'm guessing by your stares. Why am I here?"



       
         
       
        

I remembered most of what happened. I remembered pounding on the door to that house in the Hamptons until the skin on my knuckles split open. I remembered calling and texting Dean. I remembered hailing a taxi while shivering in the rain. But I don't remember what happened next. My anxiety attack came back in full swing and I must've fainted or something.

"Who brought me here?" I coughed out every word.

"The taxi driver."

Oh. I felt like a complete idiot for asking the next question.

"Where is Dean?"

Millie looked at Mama, Mama looked at Daddy, and Daddy looked out the window.

"We don't know." Millie munched on her lips. "Vicious is trying to get ahold of him. We flew in the minute we heard."

I looked around me. I didn't recognize the room, which meant that it wasn't Lenox Hill Hospital. We were more than two hours away from Manhattan. And in Manhattan, they didn't have that machine, with that terrible, terrible noise.

"You have a serious lung infection." Mama pushed Millie aside and sat on my bed. She took my hand in hers. I almost whimpered at the gesture. I pressed my fingers to her palm, enjoying this brief moment of intimacy. Her face remained tortured. "Your infection has spread, and the fact that you caught a cold didn't make things better. Your system is weak."