To be expected, Skye didn’t move or respond to anything he said, and that increased the deflated feeling of utter helplessness. Just one more shitty feeling in a sea of shitty feelings.
He kissed her forehead and then her hand, and then left.
His phone buzzed in his pocket with an incoming call, and he slipped it out.
Liza. That shouldn’t have surprised him at all.
“Hey, L.”
“Hi, B,” she chirped, “Okay, so cut me some slack because I honestly can’t tell if this is just pregnant lady hormones, but we haven’t heard from you in two whole days, and I’m having this bad feeling. Is something going on?”
All he could do was quietly and sardonically laugh. “Yeah, L., something’s going on.”
There was a pause, and then she spoke up again in a cool, clipped tone. “Something that’s not all this stuff with your dad,” she guessed.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” Liza inhaled and exhaled audibly. “I hope you’re on your way here right now.”
The smile that briefly pulled across his face wasn’t a result of happiness. It resulted from knowing that he wasn’t alone in the world, despite how isolated and hopeless he’d felt for the past two days. Skye deserved to feel like that when shit got ugly. He still knew nothing about her life, but he knew life was better when you had people like this in it.
Brennan pushed through of the hospital door and headed back to his car. “I am.”
15
ALGIERS POINT, NEW ORLEANS
Connor opened the door to his and Liza’s house and immediately shoved a low-ball glass of scotch into Brennan’s hand. “Well, fuck me.” He grabbed Brennan’s elbow and pulled him inside, throwing the door shut behind him. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Liza stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. She took one look at Brennan’s lingering facial injuries and sucked in a loud, very feminine gasp. “Oh my God.” She clutched both hands to her chest as she crossed the room in long-legged strides, standing next to Connor while they both stared wide-eyed at Brennan’s face. “B…What happened?”
Brennan pulled the Saints cap off his head and stepped forward to plant a hello kiss on Liza’s cheek, then slapped the hat against Connor’s shoulder. “Just my stupid ass doing what I do best, I suppose.”
“Did this just happen?” Liza marched across the living room, following Brennan as he dropped into an armchair in one corner, quietly groaning from exhaustion-induced soreness. She reached to hold his chin and turned his face so she could inspect the bruise, and Connor slowly approached to stand just behind her. “Did you get in a fight?”
Brennan smirked for the sole purpose of keeping things light. “Yeah, darlin’, you shoulda seen the other guy.”
“Yeah right.” Connor scoffed. “Since when do you get into fights, Sgt. Pacificist?” He rubbed his index finger across his mouth contemplatively. “Do I need to grab Luke and Gabe so we can go after somebody?”
“Nah, Sarge.” Brennan lifted the scotch to his lips to take a sip while Liza was still inspecting his face. “I don’t want any of y’all involved in this shit.”
Connor went silent, taking a gulp from his bottle of beer, still eyeballing Brennan. Liza was still holding his chin, studying his marred face, and his gaze automatically slid to hers. Her elegant, dark eyebrows were knitted.
“B., what…” Her words trailed off as she slid her fingers to the back of his head, her eyes growing huge as her hand arrived at the stitches. “Oh my God. What the hell is this?Stitches? On the back of your head? What happened to you?”
Connor scuffed the floor with his bare foot and thudded across the room to sit on the couch. “Just say the word, Riley. We’ll take care of this shit.”
“It’s not like that, Sarge.” Brennan slumped in the chair, dangling the glass from his fingertips and rubbing his other hand over his eyes. “We got jumped on Thursday night. Skye’s in some sort of coma. I’m in trouble with a guy who wants to pull my teeth out with a wrench. I need my dad to get off my back so I can deal with this mother fucker.” Liza lowered herself to crouch in front of him, and he clasped his hand around her wrist. “Honey, why don’t you go sit down and put your feet up or something? I really don’t want you having to—”
“Skye that we met?” she queried, ignoring him.
A rock lodged itself in Brennan’s throat, and he could only nod.
Liza’s eyes filled, and the tip of her nose turned pink. “Acoma?”
He nodded again.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Connor mumbled from the couch.
