I nod, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes.She’s been through enough today, and this is just one more thing to take off her plate.
“We’ll get it handled, Hannah.Don’t worry about it.”Scout gives a short nod, turning to leave, but not before adding, “I’ll make sure it’s gone.You can relax.”
“Do you need help?”Hannah asks, her voice soft but genuine.
“No, he’s fine.Rooster is coming to help.He won’t be far away.”I slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer, offering whatever comfort I can in this moment.“Can I make you a tea?”
Hannah laughs, a light sound that cuts through the heaviness.“No.I’ll make it.”
I raise an eyebrow, confused.“What’s so funny?”
She looks up at me, her lips curling into a small, teasing smile.“Do you even know how?”
Truthfully, I don’t.I’m not exactly the tea-making type, but how hard can it be?It’s just hot water and a bag, right?
I shrug, pretending to be unbothered.“I’m sure I’ve handled worse.”
She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes.“You’re lucky I’m here, or you’d probably just end up boiling the kettle and calling it ‘tea.’”
I smirk, squeezing her shoulder slightly.“Make you a deal...I’ll make sure you don’t starve, and I’ll leave the tea-making to you.”
“Teamwork?”
“That’s it, babe.”
Hannah stands up from the table, her movements slow and deliberate as she walks into the kitchen.
“Give us a hand, Prez?”Scout asks, his voice steady, but I catch the way his eyes flick to the bloody mess at the end of the hall.
“Sure.Babe, stay here, yeah?”I glance over my shoulder at Hannah, who’s still standing in the kitchen.
She looks as if she wants to argue but then nods.Hannah folds her arms and leans against the counter.
Inside the bedroom, Scout’s already kneeling beside the mattress, eyes scanning the blood-soaked sheets.The stench of it is overwhelming.Scout doesn’t say anything for a second, just taking it in, probably doing what I’m doing, trying to piece together what the hell happened here.
“Do you get a sense of anything?”he asks, his voice low, a touch of caution in it.He’s trying to figure out if we missed something.
Shaking my head, I say, “No.Not even a scent.The blood covers it all.It’s all I can smell.”
“Me too,” Scout mutters, glancing under the bed, his brow furrowed as he checks for anything that doesn’t belong.“If you hold up the bed, I can pull the rug out.”
I look at the blood-soaked mattress.There’s not much left to salvage, but we can at least clear the mess.I step forward, my boots heavy on the floor as I crouch next to the bed.“Ready when you are.”
Scout positions himself, ready to pull the rug out, his jaw set in that quiet determination of his.He’s not asking questions, not looking for answers.He’s just getting shit done, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
With one arm, I lift the bed.The weight of it is nothing, but the sight of what we’re working with feels heavier than it should.
He pulls it out from under the bed in one fluid movement, a well-rehearsed maneuver.Scout’s hands move quickly as he rolls up the rug, making it easier to carry outside.
“I’ll get the sheets and stuff.Together, we can carry out the mattress.”
Scout nods at me as he walks out of the house, the rolled-up rug slung over his shoulder, the weight not bothering him at all.
I bend down, stripping the blood-soaked sheets from the bed and roll them into a ball to avoid spilling anything on the floor.Once it’s all bundled up, I follow Scout out the door and toward the truck.
We toss the blood-soaked bedding and rug into the back of the truck with a grunt.The sound of a rumbling engine cuts through the tension.Rooster pulls up on his bike.He hops off, striding over to us with that casual swagger of his.But when he leans over to look in the truck bed, his face twists with disgust.
“Jesus!”Rooster mutters, eyes scanning the mess.
