Arranged love

BONES

I PARK MY car in front of the house, not pulling into the garage around back because I won’t be here long. It’s a little after two in the morning, and I need to be up at Glass by four to close it down. Entering the house, I stop and listen. It’s silent. Either Mia’s asleep or she decided to stay at the hospital tonight. I haven’t heard from her since they left Kingdom earlier today, and I hate how much that’s driving me crazy. I’ve never waited around for a woman to call me. Or cared to wonder where they were. I’ve always been the one too busy to text or call back. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a relationship was my high school and college years with Emilee. We were never a couple, but we had an understanding that we were exclusive. She gave me what I needed in the bedroom without the clingy girlfriend bullshit. She didn’t expect me to love her, and I didn’t feel the need to pretend I did.

Making my way to the bedroom, I open the door to see she’s in bed. Nite had texted me earlier that they plan on keeping Luca in his coma a little longer.

My cell rings, and I look down to see it’s April. “Hello?”

“Bones,” she whispers my name. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. You’re fine. Everything okay?” As I ask the question, I’m already walking toward the front doors of my house and stepping outside on my porch to look over at theirs. I see several lights inside the house are on. I frown. She’s always up early because of the flower shop she owns, so for her to be up this late is odd.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“It’s Grave.” She sighs. “I tried calling Titan, but he didn’t answer. Then I saw your car parked out front.”

I’m running down the stone steps before she even finishes her sentence.

There’s a long pause before she asks. “Can you come over?”

“I’m already on my way. What’s wrong?” I question, my heart racing, thinking the worst. My first thought is that he’s relapsed-swallowed too many pills. He’s facedown in his own vomit, and he’s too heavy for her to move.

“I-I don’t know.” April sniffs. “He won’t talk to me. I tried calling Titan,” she repeats. “I’m sorry.” She begins to cry.

“Don’t apologize. I’m on my way.” Hanging up, I start to run across the cul-de-sac over to their house. Titan and Grave have gotten really close this year. More than they were before. Titan’s the one who dropped him off at rehab. I hate that Grave felt he couldn’t talk to me like he could Titan, but I didn’t care who my little brother spoke to as long as he sought help when he needed it.

I’m breaking a sweat by the time I run up their steps, and she meets me at the door. I notice her bloodshot eyes and runny nose. Her makeup is smeared in places and completely rubbed off in others. She’s holding a wad of tissues in her hand. Her purple hair is up in a messy bun, but pieces fall out of it around her face. She grabs her black silk robe and wraps it around herself to cover up her white spaghetti strap shirt and matching cotton shorts.

“Where is he?” I ask, sucking in a breath.

“Kitchen,” she whispers.

I practically run down the hallway and rush into the kitchen, coming to a stop. He sits at the table, facing the five rectangular floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the cul-de-sac. The curtains are open so you can see our private clubhouse in the middle.

My eyes quickly sweep over his profile view, checking for blood or any sign of injuries, but I see none. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, showing off the tattoo of April on his arm that he had Cross do. He has his ripped jeans on, and he still has his combat boots on. He sits motionless, one hand holding a glass of scotch, the other holding the open bottle.

“Kyle?” I say his name, sitting down to his right at the head of the table. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, and I wonder if he’s already high on something. “Grave. What’s wrong?” I ask, needing him to speak to me. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.”

He blinks, lowering his blue eyes to the table. “Do you ever test yourself?” he asks, his voice low and rough, making me frown at his question. Before I can answer, he snorts. “Stupid question. You don’t have any limits.”

“That’s not true.” I reach out my hand to his, but he jerks away, so I pull back and link mine together on the table.

His knuckles whiten, gripping the glass and bottle tighter as if I’m going to take them away from him.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” He gives a rough laugh. “Spoken like a true alcoholic, huh?” Lifting the glass, he brings it to his face, and he stares at it like it holds the answer to all his problems. “I mean, I never needed a drink. I liked a drink. There’s a difference. I needed the pills, cocaine …” He swallows, setting the glass back down but not letting go, and admits, “I miss it.”

I hear something to my left and look to see April leaning up against the wall under the archway at the far end of the kitchen. She’s behind him, where he can’t see her. The look of pain in her eyes makes my chest ache.

“I hate feeling.” He sniffs. “I was doing so good. Everything seemed better. But … but I keep having the dreams. Nightmares.” He corrects himself and drops his voice to a whisper. “About the baby.”

I look back at April, and she’s gripping her robe with one hand. The other is over her mouth as she begins to silently cry at his words.

“But it’s not me. It’s like an out-of-body experience.” He frowns, confused by that thought. “I’m standing by watching April cry. And I can’t help her. I can’t talk to her. I-” He sniffs again. “I’m helpless. But I can feel pain. Her pain. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Crippling. And I realize it’s not her crying. It’s me. My chest is so heavy, I can’t breathe.” He lifts the glass once again, but this time, he slams it down on the table, making it rattle.

Looking over at April, she now has both hands over her mouth and nose as tears run down her face.

“It’s unbearable. The thought of her feeling that.” He shakes his head. “And then like a punch to the face, it’s gone, and there’s nothing. She’s gone, and I’m watching me. The old me. I’m alone in a room, fucking high. I tell myself to stop. To move. To get up. But I can’t. I watch myself snort a line while I scream not to do it. And I’m numb.” He looks over at me for the first time, and his eyes swim in tears. It makes my breath catch. That I can’t help him. That I can’t save him from himself. “All the pain is gone,” he says, looking away. “And for those few seconds, life is back to what it was-a black hole of nothing. Nothing exists. Not to me. There’s only silence, and I realize just how much I miss it. But then.” He swallows. “Then I wake up, covered in sweat, trying to catch my breath. I look over, and April’s sleeping. She-” He clears his throat. “She looks so peaceful, and I tell myself that’s why I have to stay strong. For her. Because she’s so strong.”

“Kyle-“