The prince spoke up first. “I’m Eric,” he said, offering another wink. “And the ape at your feet is Michael.”
“Ape, huh?” Michael asked. “That’s the best you can do?”
I had to admit, Michael exuded a Brando-esque kind of coolness that I’d have bet my sutures made him quite the chick magnet.
Prince Eric laughed. “I’m working with a limited education here.”
“It shows.”
Once they had me all tucked in and Eric and Michael had stepped out of the room, Donovan kneeled down beside me. “I’m Donovan.”
I smiled even though it hurt. “I know.”
“I like you.”
I placed a hand on my chest as though I were insulted. “Last I heard, you were fucking in love with me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how rumors get started,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Nobody wants a fool in love for a leader. There’ll be rebellion, chaos, matching biker-gang shirts.” He kissed the back of my hand. “Get some rest.”
He’d barely left before the pain set in again, the emptiness and betrayal swirling inside me. Reyes could bite my ass. My dad could bite my ass. Uncle Bob could … Well, no, I still liked Uncle Bob. I was in serious wallow mode when my lids drifted shut again. Depression really did make a person want to sleep all the time. Who knew?
27
Sorry about what happens later.
—T-SHIRT
Right in the middle of an unsettling scene where a girl with an eye patch kept trying to convince me I owed her twelve dollars for picking up my teeth off the sidewalk and putting them in a Dixie cup, I heard another voice. One so familiar, so close to my heart, it swelled in response.
“You gonna sleep all day?”
I rushed toward consciousness and threw an arm over my eyes in protest. Maybe this time it would work. Maybe this time it would block out reality and I wouldn’t have to face it, ’cause reality was sucking of late.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
After a long exhalation, I opened my eyes. Or, well, one eye. One was superglued shut again. I started to rub it, but I forgot and tried to use my left arm. A scalding pain shot up the underside of it. Clearly, pain meds were overrated. But my fingers were moving better. Grim reaperism definitely had its advantages.
I took a deep breath, clamped my teeth together, and focused through my bedroom doorway on the man sitting on my snack bar just as I had been earlier. He was wearing the same shirt from several days before, loosely fitted jeans, and work boots. With one leg up, an arm resting on the knee, he sat studying me, his silvery eyes taking me in, and he seemed almost disturbed by what he saw.
“Is it my new look?” I asked him when he said nothing.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said. “You’re bright, like a beacon, shimmering and warm. You’re like the flame that draws the moth.”
A lump swelled in my chest as he spoke. I had taken everything from him. He had so much more to do, so much life left to live. “I’m so sorry, Garrett,” I said, unable to stop the sting of my eyes. This crying bit was becoming a tad ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop it. Any more than I could stop the rains from heaven.
I covered my eyes with a hand and tried to get a grip on my emotions.
“Charles, how on earth is this your fault? I was doing my job.”
“And your job was me.” I looked back at him. “I did this. I got you killed.”
“You didn’t get me killed. And I should have ducked.”
A small chuckle escaped. Oddly enough, there’d been two people in that room who could’ve avoided a gunshot wound by ducking. Garrett was not one of them. “You should have called for backup. I figured the military would have prepared you better.”
“They should’ve prepared me better for the likes of you.” His turned away from me. “I have to tell you, now that I can actually see Mr. Wong, he freaks me out even more.”
“And I love knowing that more than you can possibly imagine. It’s too bad you have to go through eternity needing a shave.”
He smiled. “Actually, I don’t. But it is too bad you have to go through life with those chicken drumsticks.” He gestured toward my legs.
I gasped, seriously appalled. “I beg your pardon. These are great legs.” I tried to lift my good one, but doing so hurt the bad one. Maybe it was jealous of the attention its sibling was getting. “These legs are legendary. Just ask the chess team from high school. And whatever you do, do not let the words chess team fool you.”
Then a realization dawned, and I fixed an astonished gaze on Garrett.
“I was indirectly responsible for your death. You’re my guardian. The one Sister Mary Elizabeth told me about. This is fantastic. I so didn’t want a dog killer as a guardian, or a big fat liar.”
He let a lazy smile slide across his face. “I’m not your guardian.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty darned.”
“Damn it. How many people am I going to be indirectly responsible for killing this week?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not one of them.”
My phone chose that moment to ring and I chose that moment to ignore it. It was Cookie’s ringtone. She’d understand.
“You might want to get that,” Garrett said.
After casting him a look of suspicion, I reached over and grabbed the phone off my nightstand. How could such a simple act be so painful? “That really hurt,” I said into the phone.
“Charley, Charley, oh, my god.”
“I’ve heard that from men in the past, but I had no idea you felt that way about me.”
“He’s back. They brought him back.”
“Oh, good. I was worried. Who are we talking about?”
“I’m at the hospital. Garrett. The resuscitated him. He died on the table, but they brought him back and no one told us. They’ve been in surgery.”
I bolted upright, steeled myself against the pain as I eased back down, then glanced over at Garrett. He was grinning. “But, he’s here.”
“Exactly, he’s here. He’s not gone. Oh, my gosh, the doctor’s coming. I’ll call you right back.”
I closed my phone and stared wide-eyed at Garrett.