Shattered (Extreme Risk 2)

“Yes,” I say with a nod. “I do think I can talk him into it.”

“Oh, yeah?” the little shit asks, calling me on it. “How? Because you pretty much screwed it up the first time.”

“Hey, I can get creative when I need to.”

“How creative are we talking here? Because Ash is pretty mad.”

Don’t I know it. I blow out a breath, try to pretend I’m not shaking inside. “I’ll be as creative as I need to be.”

“Really?” Logan’s eyes go wide with interest. “Like, creative creative?”

The wink, wink, nudge, nudge is implied.

“Yeah, right,” I say with a laugh. What is it with these Lewis boys that they keep imagining I have way more game than I actually do? “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to use my feminine wiles to convince him to hop on a plane to Chile with me.”

Logan doesn’t seem to find the thought nearly as funny as I do, though. Instead, he just nods and picks up the TV remote like my seducing Ash into agreeing is a foregone conclusion.

It boggles my brain a little, and I shake my head to clear it. Then start back to the kitchen before Ash decides to take out another wall—this time with a body part he might actually need for boarding.

I’m almost out the door when Logan says softly, “Just, you know, be careful with him.”

I snort. “Yeah, I think your brother can take of himself.”

“Usually. But he’s not used to girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“You know. The nice ones.”

Of course. Nice. I’m the nice one. The sweet one. The butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth one. For a second, I want to take a turn punching the wall. I mean, how pathetic am I that even a pissed-off kid can see the truth, despite the fact that I’m dressed like a punk-rock hooker?

Just once I’d like to be described as something other than nice. Sexy, maybe. Mysterious, definitely. Hot, absolutely. I have blue hair, for God’s sake, and jeans so tight that I’m pretty sure they’re cutting off circulation to just about everywhere. Surely that’s got to count for something.

Except, obviously, it doesn’t.

Stupid kid.

Stupid look.

Stupid me, trying to be something I’m not.

Except that’s not fair either, because it’s not that I’m trying to be someone else. I’m trying to be me. The only problem is I don’t know who that is. I’ve been cancer girl for so long that trying to find another identity is … challenging, especially when everyone around me still sees the sick girl with the port in her chest.

I roll my eyes at myself as I head back to Ash. Existential crises are so unattractive in a girl, after all. Not that I want to be attractive for Ash or anything, but still … no need to actually repulse the guy, either.

I find him standing right where I left him, head bowed and uninjured hand braced against the wall. In those seconds, he looks like Atlas, with the weight of the world balanced on his broad, capable shoulders. It’s a heavy load, though. No wonder he’s flinching.

At least now I understand why Ash wasn’t willing to be gone for more than a day. Meeting Logan, seeing what Ash is responsible for, puts things in perspective, just as his obvious struggle to do the right thing does. It also makes me like him a lot more, despite his fist coming so close to my face.

It’s been a few minutes since he lashed out, and though he’s obviously trying to get himself under control, Ash is still shaking, still breathing heavily. It makes me feel even worse, especially since I know I need to do something to diffuse the tension or he’s going to lose it all over again.

But what?

I think back to all those times I lost it—or nearly did—in the hospital, and know that sympathy isn’t the way to bring him back. Not now. Not from this. It’ll only make things worse. As will too much kindness. Which leaves—

“So, is your little trip to crazy town finished or are you planning on doing more redecorating?” I nod toward the hole he’s just put in the wall. “Because, I’ve got to tell you, a nice flower arrangement might be the way to go. Or, in this case, a new painting. They’re pretty good at hiding a multitude of sins.”

He stares at me incredulously. “Is that seriously all you have to say?”