I tug a hoodie on over my tank, not bothering with a bra. I yank the jeans I wore to work back over my hips and dig a pair of thick socks out of the dresser. Fisher grabs some of his clothes that still hang in my closet from the rack.
Tomorrow, I’ll pack them up and drop them at the clubhouse along with the rest of his shit like I should’ve done when he first went to jail.
The two of us file into my car. Fisher insists on driving. I’m too mentally and physically exhausted to argue.
During the ride to the hospital, Fisher occasionally glances at me but he doesn’t speak. I don’t fill the silence either. I study the moon and wish on stars that aren’t there, hoping for answers until we reach our destination.
Once we’re out of the car though Fisher laces his fingers with mine. I don’t pull away. It’s so easy to fall into old habits with him. He makes it so damn comfortable to forget that the past three years happened at all. If I were the girl he once knew, I’d have no problem playing pretend. Putting a smile on my face. Faking that everything is perfect. I could welcome him with no hesitation. No reservations.
As we enter the emergency room, I spot all the usual suspects. My brothers, Zuko and Gentry. Whiskey and my sister. My father, John Crow. Fat Bastard, Hellraiser, Shallow, Bubbles, and Pickle among others. Belinda’s family is huddled at the far end of the room. Her mother is sobbing as her father does his best to console her. I don’t see Death anywhere. Maybe that’s for the best considering Fisher is keeping me close.
My father glances up. “Well, God damn. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He hops up and Fisher releases me to greet him. They exchange a few words I’m not listening to.
I’m too busy trying to hear what Belinda’s brother is saying to whoever he’s on the phone with. He says the words paralyzed and brain damage. I don’t know if he means Death’s wife or son. Either way it’s not a great prognosis.
Fisher makes his rounds, receiving everyone’s praises. All of them are happy to have him home. Sounds as though they didn’t know he was being released either. I’m sure if they knew Whiskey would have mentioned it to Yara. She would have passed that information along to me. Warned me. She was as surprised to see him as I was.
With Fisher preoccupied I squeeze into a chair next to my sister.
“Any updates?”
She shakes her head. “Death is sitting with Bensen. Belinda is still in surgery.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Let’s go find a vending machine.” She winks. “We’ll be back,” she tells Whiskey.
I motion to Fisher, and he gives me a lift of his chin in acknowledgment.
I follow Yara through a set of double doors.
“Come on. I saw Elaine earlier. She can tell us what room Death’s kid is in.” Elaine is Pickle’s sister. Sometimes she does medical work for the club on the downlow.
“I didn’t come for that. Fisher asked me to bring him.”
“Right. What’s up with you two?”
“Hell if I know.”
“You’re not getting back with him, are you?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t think so. His being here has me confused.”
“Did he tell you how he got an early release?”
“I didn’t ask him. We didn’t get that far in the conversation.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“No. I would have but he um. Well, you know it’s been a while so…”
Yara snickers. “Thank God for small favors. You know I am all for getting you some, but he did you dirty.”
“He swears April lied.”
“Yeah, and now she’s not here to claim otherwise.”
“True, but he seemed genuinely confused when I asked him if he did her. He didn’t know it happened recently.”