“You’re awake!” Calli all but squeals, and she flies toward the bed.
Emmie enters a little more demurely behind her.
“It’s so good to see you,” Calli continues. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Confused.” Lonely. I don’t say the last one. I don’t need anyone to feel guilty for me being here.
“I can’t believe you’ve been out of it for so long,” Emmie says, taking the seat on the opposite side of the bed to Calli.
“Right? I’ve literally lost a part of my life. How are you? The last time I saw you I was mopping blood from your face.”
Emmie waves me off. “I’m good. You should see the other girl.”
“Aw man. Tell me she ended up with a shiner.”
Emmie smothers a laugh while pulling her cell from her blazer. “How’s this?”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my hand coming up to cover my mouth as I stare at the image of Teagan. It’s zoomed in from across the room, but her two black eyes from Emmie’s solid punch to her nose are clear as day. “Damn, I can’t believe I missed seeing it myself.”
“I tried getting a better photo, but for some reason she wasn’t up for posing for you.”
“I wonder why,” I joke.
Emmie shrugs. “Beats me.”
“Anyway,” Calli says, interrupting us. “We come with gifts.”
Lifting a bag to her lap that I didn’t notice before, she reaches inside and begins placing everything on my small table.
“You missed your big day, and we’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes to come celebrate with you.”
My eyes scan the items on my table before Calli thrusts a card in front of me.
“I’m not really in the mood for celebrating,” I confess, taking it from her.
“Well, that’s tough, because we’ve got all night to try to make you feel better about life.
“The men might be out there trying to catch the arsehole who dared lay a finger on you, but we’re not useless.”
“Think I’d rather be out there with a gun in my hand,” Emmie mutters.
My eyes find hers.
“What? I know about the whole mafia bullshit.”
“You do?” I ask, thinking that she’s been weirdly chill about it.
“Do you have any idea who my grandaddy is?”
“Literally no clue. Enlighten me.”
“I’ll take your mafia and raise you an MC.”
“MC?” I ask, not totally following. I blame the pain meds.
“Yeah, motorcycle club. You know, Sons of Anarchy and all that.”
“Fuck off. Your grandad isn’t in an MC.”