Draw (Gentry Boys #1)(63)
“Man,” Creed chuckled when I paused for breath, “you suck.”
“Holy shit, so you can smile! God, I wondered. Wait, are you okay? Does your face hurt?”
He rolled his eyes. “Quit it, you’re starting to sound like the boys. Can’t have you ganging up on me too.”
“Well,” I said, relieved that he actually did know how to complete several sentences in a row, “I heard you don’t suck. At singing, I mean.”
“I’ve heard that too. You know what? Pull into that Burger King drive thru. I want a Big Mac.”
“Big Macs are only at McDonald’s,” I told him, gladly pulling up anyway. “But I’ll treat you to a Whopper.”
As we drove away with a couple of greasy bags, Creed seemed to warm up a little.
“You care if I eat in your car?”
“Well,” I sighed, gesturing to the frayed seats and warped dashboard, “I was trying to keep it looking new but I’ll stand down this once.”
Creed passed me a bag of fries which I accepted happily, shoving a handful in my mouth. He devoured his hamburger in about three bites and stared broodingly out the window as we pulled up to the apartment building.
I’d forgotten all about the table Cord had broken in a fit of sudden anger. Creed raised his eyebrows and kicked over one of the pieces.
“What the hell happened here?”
“Nothing. I did that,” I told him as I retrieved Chase’s half full box of cereal from the floor.
“Bullshit,” Creed snorted.
“Seriously,” I flexed my arms. “I’m stronger than I look.”
Creed stared down at the fractured table and frowned. “It doesn’t get away from him very often, you know.”
“Cord?”
He nodded. “Yeah. He and Chase both, they can bottle it back up better than I can.”
“Oh.”
Creed gave me a hard look. “He told you stuff, didn’t he? Hell, he probably didn’t have to. I’m sure you remember a few things about what we came from.”
I coughed. “I’m sorry.”
Creed picked up the two pieces of the table, tried to fit them back together, then gave up and let them fall. “What are you sorry for? Anyway, that shit was a long time ago. That’s what I’m always telling the boys. That’s what I told Cord a few weeks back, the night he brought you home and he was all keyed up, thinking how you surely hated him.”
“I don’t hate him,” I said quietly. “I love him.”
That made the most inscrutable of the Gentry brothers take a step back. “Good,” he said, nodding, “I thought maybe that was it.” He walked over to the television and switched on the Xbox. Within seconds he was shooting computer animated figures.
“Hey,” I called.
Creed didn’t take his eyes from the television. “What?”
“You okay with me sticking around and waiting for Cord?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just thought you might be tired or-“
“I’m not tired,” he interrupted. “I dozed off at the hospital.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, not really sure if he’d given me an answer. I turned and started to head towards Cord’s bedroom, figuring Creed ought to be left alone with his fictitious killing quest.
The knock at the door brought Creed immediately to his feet. He pushed me behind him before he looked through the peephole, then breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s your cousin.”
Brayden and Millie were waiting on the other side of the door looking like a set of worried parents. Creed opened the door and motioned for them to come inside.
“We happened to be walking by,” Brayden explained, following us to the living room “and saw that the light was on…”
“He’s lying,” Millie said cheerfully, “we’ve been stalking this place for an hour.” Her eyes landed on Creed and she turned serious. “How is he?”
“Pretty f*cked up,” Creed admitted, sinking back into his chair in front of the television.
“Doctor wants to keep him a few more days,” I told them, “on account of the surgery and the concussion. Cord’s staying at the hospital until visiting hours are over.”
Bray’s glance flicked over to Creed. “The cops catch the sons of bitches?”
“No,” Creed scowled. He tensely drummed his fingers on his leg.
“Somebody had to see something,” I said. “It was broad daylight after all. The cops might still-“
“They won’t,” Creed said firmly. “Any justice that gets meted out will have to find another way.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I didn’t like it at all. I looked helplessly at Bray and Millie. Brayden stared sadly back at me but Millie took a stroll around the living room.
“This yours?” she asked, picking up a weathered guitar which had been leaning on the far side of the couch. It was the same one I’d seen Creed playing the other night when he was sitting out front. I remembered how Cord had spoken repeatedly of Creed’s musical talents.
He paused the controller and peered at the guitar in Millie’s hand.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s mine.”