“How’s the side feel?” Trey asks. I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that he feels guilty.
Fucker should, this is his fault.
“Fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything major.” If it did, I would already be dead or at least unconscious. Instead I feel every bump in the road, and every turn Wes makes.
We pull into the parking garage a short while later. Wes helps me out of the van while Trey takes Jessa by the hand and ushers her to the elevator. I can see the resistance in each of her steps and when we get into the elevator, I can practically see the ulcer in her stomach forming from the stress.
I already know what’s going on inside that pretty little head of hers. She’s wondering if she’ll ever leave this place again. And the truth is, I don’t fucking know. Could we ever trust her enough to let her leave? Maybe go on a supply run with one of us? Right now, I can’t see it happening. It’s too much of a fucking risk, and again I’m reminded of my humanity. She sparks something in me, ignites a need I’ve long forgotten about. I want her in more than just my bed, but I want revenge too. Maybe killing her father will be enough for me? It will have to be, won’t it?
Wes and Trey won’t let me kill her, hurt her maybe, but kill her, no way. They’re too attached, their cocks too caught up in everything that she is.
“I’m going to pull this fucking bullet out, and one of you is going to sew me up. Then we need to devise a plan of attack. I want Richards dead.” I see Jessa’s big blue eyes widen as if she’s shocked to hear us talk about outright killing her father, as if that wasn’t going to be the end result all along.
“You’ll need to heal up first. How did you end up getting shot anyway?” Wes questions.
“Someone didn’t listen to my instructions,” I shoot Jessa a look that tells her I know exactly what she was doing. Trey and Wes stare at me, as if they’re waiting for me to tell them what happened. and I know they want to know what went down. But I don’t have the patience to tell them right now, not with this bullet in my side.
“I’ll tell you the whole story later, but I need to get this bullet out first. It’s an even bigger pain in the ass then you guys.” They both chuckle as if I’ve just said a hilarious joke.
Wes helps me to my bedroom, and Trey runs off, going to get everything we need to patch up this wound. Jessa follows behind like a lost puppy and sits down on the floor next to my bed, her eyes never leaving me. It’s almost like she is worried about me and that only angers me further.
Why would she care if I lived or died? I suppose she could’ve let me die back there, but then she would’ve died too. I can’t forget the fear that ripped through me when I saw him lift that gun and point it at her. I’m not supposed to feel anything for her, she’s the enemy but I can’t lie and say my heart didn’t almost stop beating.
“I’ll dig the bullet out,” Trey volunteers. Of course he fucking does. I’ll bet he’s still angry with me for treating Jessa the way I have been, but it’s not my fault I feel conflicted. I’m the big brother, it’s my job to care for my brothers, my family, and I already let the enemy win once, letting Jessa in could destroy us and I’ll be damned if I fail anyone I love ever again, even more so for some girl.
“Of course you will.” I roll my eyes, and he gives me a sly grin, before getting to work. The pain that his fingers bring as he digs into the wound, around tissue and muscle to find the bullet lodged deep inside me is a welcoming one. When he finds it, he pulls it out, tossing it into a metal bedside pan, all while smirking like he just saved the world or some fucking shit.
“Saved your life,” Trey announces.
“Did not.” I exhale, the pain slowly easing from my side, now that the fucking thing is out. Trey moves out of the way and Wes cleans and disinfects everything thoroughly before sewing me up. Throughout the process, I notice my brothers eyeing Jessa accusingly.
They know it’s her fault we got caught, and that I got shot, but they don’t know the extent of it. I thought I would be relieved and happy to see them resenting her for it, instead I’m filled with confusion. I hate and want her at the same time. I want to see her suffer, I want my brothers to hate her, but I also want to comfort her. I want to pull her into my arms and take her clothes off. I want her to stay in my bed and do what I tell her to do…and worst of all I want her to want it.