Dark Child (Wild Men 5)

“And you took too many sleeping pills.”

Ah fuck. I rake a hand through my hair, keeping the other on her. So that’s what happened. “I just wanted to sleep.”

“Just wanted… God, Merc.” Her mouth twists. “I should have been here for you. I shouldn’t have left.”

“Cos, no. It’s not like that, okay?” I tug on my hair, but my head hurts, so I stop. Thinking hurts. “Did I… What happened? How come you’re here?” Held in her arms, I don’t feel defensive. I only want to know. “How do you know about Ross?”

“He called Octavia. It seems you got him worried, too.”

“A talent of mine, it turns out,” I say drily.

And hey, give this man a prize. How the fuck did I manage to worry Ross? Guy has no feelings. Certainly doesn’t give a damn about me, or this family as a whole.

Heh, I probably shocked him half to death by calling him, though. That has to be it. ‘How to shock Ross Jones: Ask him how he is. Show some drunken kindness.’

Damn. Why does the thought make me sad?

“He was in my dreams,” I say.

“Ross?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that a new development?”

“It’s not the first time.” But something was different… what was it?

Something more.

“They’re outside,” she says.

“Who’s outside?”

“Your family. Well, your sisters, and Jarett and… Matt? The bearded one. Your mom was here too but went home at some point.”

Jesus fuck. I want to solve this. I feel like shit, but my mind’s clearer than it has been for weeks. “I think I dreamed… I dreamed of the body, and the face belonged to Ross. Christ, that was weird. But I wasn’t as terrified as I usually am, for whatever reason.”

“Ross was the body?”

“Yeah, I know, it makes no sense.”

And I wanna make sense of it, find out what it all means, get it over with. It’s time to face my demons and lay them to rest.

I’m sitting in bed, propped up by a stack of fluffy pillows that probably belong to JC, my family gathered around me, like one of those paintings by some classical painter or other. The Sick Man. Behold how they all grieve.

Only I’m not dead, or even sick. Just nauseous and tired.

Same old.

At least Cos is sitting beside me on the bed, holding my right hand in hers.

“How could you do that?” Octavia says, her voice shaky. Her big eyes are red. “What are you taking? Are you taking benzos? You could get addicted.”

And let the grilling commence.

“Not taking benzos, sis, I—”

“You can’t keep taking sleeping pills so carelessly. You could have died! And if you mix them with—”