Raw (RAW Family #1)(58)

Can I really go through with hurting her, when I can’t stand to see a f*cking needle in her?

I’ll never tell the f*cker, but Happy was right. I’ve never been fine. Not a day in my life. My mind is…is…ruined. And I know the exact point it went from bad to worse.

Doc speaks on, “I’ll have to stay here until she wakes. The drip will take another four hours to empty. So if you have a spare bed for me, I’ll gladly take it. Preferably one close to the girl.”

It takes everything I have in me not to bring this guy down. I don’t like the way he said the girl. He said it like she was a junkie or a f*ckin’ prostitute or something. Little does he know the type of work she does, or how f*ckin’ lucky the government is to have someone as passionate as her on their side. But then, I am paying this guy a f*ckload to avoid the question of identities.

“So,” I continue watching Lexi, my angel, “she’ll be fine, right?”

Picking up his carry bag, he states, “I can’t confirm or deny that. I’ll need to see her when she wakes.”

A forgotten Happy emerges from the doorway and motions for the doc to follow him. And I’m left with the girl who is destined to hate me. The girl I lov— Whoa. What the f*ck?

My body tenses. Glaring down at Lexi, I shake my head as if to clear it.

I don’t like what she’s doing to me.

My go-to emotion for anything I don’t like or don’t understand is anger. And I’m suddenly angry at her.

Scowling, I turn on my heel and stalk out the room.

Never should’ve brought her here.





My heavy lids try to open, but the weight of them forces me to stop. A cool breeze wafts over my hot body, providing little relief, but still feeling good nonetheless. A pinching on my hand makes my brows knit. It feels like I’m being stung by a bee.

Willing my arms to lift, I manage to slowly reach for the sore area on top of my hand to feel bumpy plastic. My brow furrows more. That’s when I hear someone speak by my bedside, “She’s waking up. Yeah. I don’t know. Okay.”

Opening one eye to peek out at my visitor, I see Happy watching me through a cautious gaze.

The effort to open that eye seems to have taken all my energy with it. Closing my eye and ceasing all movement, I mumble, “Sick.”

I feel Happy lean closer and brush the hair stuck to my forehead, “I know, doll. You’re better some. Not so feverish. So that’s good.”

Swallowing hard, I whisper, “Twitch.”

Happy hesitates a moment before leaning even closer and whispering, “He’ll be home soon. ‘Kay?”

My body heavy, I don’t respond. Even a nod of my head would be too much.

I want Twitch.





Sitting up in bed, the doc looks over me. He goes over the motions and I look at the digital clock on the nightstand.

4:56pm.

I’ve been awake an hour. I’ve been told that I was dehydrated and needed two IV drip infusions. I have to admit after I managed to ignore the pinching, the IV was doing its job. I feel better already.

But one thing is missing.

Or I should say, one person.





The room dimly lit by lamplight, I turn to see Happy watching TV in the chair beside the bed.

I feel much better now. I’m no longer dehydrated and have eaten. The doc gave me parting instructions, which he said he would write down for me. He shot me a glare as he handed me the folded paper. Then he was gone.

As soon as he left, I opened the note and read. The top of the paper had printed Doctor’s recommendation to patient. Underneath that was scrawled: Don’t do cocaine.

My face flamed. I don’t exactly remember what happened last night, but I do remember enough to cringe and wince at my actions. My heart races. There’s no way around it. I’m going to lose my job. I won’t pass this year’s random drug test.

And I blame Twitch.

His mess of a life has become my mess.

Turning to the digital clock on the nightstand, I stare at the display.

22:45pm and he’s still not home.

Fucking coward.

Hugging myself around the knees, I say quietly, “I’d like to go home now.”

I feel Happy’s eyes on me. He sighs, “You don’t have to, Lex. You can stay—”

I cut him off. “I’d like to go home. If you can arrange a car, good. If you can’t, I’ll catch a taxi.”

He scoffs, “Don’t even think about it, girl. I’ll drive you myself.”

Within ten minutes, my miserable ass is driving away from the man I thought could change.

Would change.

I guess I was wrong.





One week later…





To say I’m jumpy is an understatement.

It’s been a week since I saw Twitch. A week since I was sick. A week since I took cocaine for the first time.

Sitting behind my desk, I listen to Charlie without really listening to him. Small bits of the conversation drift in and out of my consciousness. “Yearly drug test… Every six months… Randomly… Tomorrow afternoon… Compulsory… Will result in immediate termination… Nothing to worry about.”

My heart sinks.

Time to face the facts.