Page 87 of Bound By Threads
Crew groans like he’s heard us and wants to die just to shut us up.
I crouch next to him. The words said the other day forgotten for now. “You with me?”
His eyes crack open, bloodshot and wild. “Have you seen her?” he rasps.
Of course, he’s asking about her.
I resist the urge to scoff. “I have. I handled it.”
Elijah blinks. “What does that mean?” as Crew mutters. “You better not have been mean to her. She’s too pretty to cry.”
I ignore him, focusing on Elijah. “We don’t have time for distractions anymore. My dad’s flying in next week, Pacheco pulled out, and now he’s on a rampage. We need Crew sober, and we need to stop babysitting a ghost.”
“Lottie’s not a ghost,” Crew mutters from the floor.
“She should be.”
They both fall quiet, and I can feel the tension stretching between us like a live wire. “You don’t mean that,” Elijah says, leveling me with a glare.
I roll my eyes at him. “Not like she gives a shit about you either buddy. The only one she seems to be going easy on is the idiot on the floor who’s slowly killing himself.”
Crew moans again, clutching his stomach.
I stand, pacing. I hate this feeling—the weakness I feel as we wait. We’re supposed to be building something, taking control, and finally getting free from my dad.
Instead, we’re playing catch-up with a girl who shouldn’t be alive, and dealing with a brother whose body is trying to kill him for denying it what it’s had a steady stream of for two years. I stare down at Crew for a moment, watching how he’s curled into himself, sweat sticking to his skin like plastic wrap. He’s barely conscious now, mumbling nonsense through cracked lips, his body rejecting every ounce of poison he’s used.
“Lottie…” he croaks.
I kneel beside him, trying not to breathe too deeply. “Crew, focus. You don’t need her. You need to get clean. You’re almost there.”
He doesn’t hear me. His nails claw at the edge of the bathmat like he’s trying to crawl away from us. “She makes it quiet. Hurts less…”
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face. “He’s calling for her like she’s his goddamn salvation.”
“She used to be,” Elijah says flatly, without looking at me. “There was a time they were each other’s person because they both got something we didn’t. Before we broke her.”
“She broke herself.”
“No Roman. She let us break her because she had no other choice. Tell me, what would we have done if she fought back? We would’ve destroyed her in return just like you’re trying to do now.” Elijah corrects me, and god damn me if he’s right.
There’s a long silence. Crew lets out another moan, and I hold him up while trying to get him to drink some water, even though I know it’ll come right back up.
“She told me she was going to forget me,” Elijah says finally. “Told me that was my punishment…”
I glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but he’s staring at the wall, eyes unreadable.
“Think she meant it?”
Elijah shrugs, but I can see the tightness in his jaw. “Who cares?”
He does.
“Exactly,” I mutter. “You’re married. I’m going to finally take down my dad, and Crew’s getting sober. Even if she is the reason…” I hold my hand out for the wash cloth, holding it against Crew’s forehead. “I told her, her dad’s dead.”
“You what?” His voice spikes, sharp and incredulous. “That’s not how we do things. You don’t rip open wounds like that for revenge.”
“She’s dragging us down. You want to save Crew? We make her pay.” I jab a finger toward the door, as if she’s on the other side. “You think Crew’s getting clean for himself? No. He’s doing it because of her, and now he thinks he has something worth getting sober for. You think that ends well? She’ll disappear again, and break his heart, and I don’t think we’ll be able to save him this time.”
