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ridiculous shit I said to Soph before she went postal and tried to murder me. I should have kept my mouth shut. I’ve been completely thrown since we got back here, though. Ten days I stayed away, because me being around her is a bad idea. Actually, no. Before, back when Ramirez didn’t know exactly who I was and where my fucking family lived, it was a bad idea. Now he does know and he’s shown up on my front door step, it’s a fucking catastrophic idea. We should never have gotten involved the way we did back in Alabama. I should never have gone after her like that. What a fucking moronic thing to do.
    Thirty minutes pass. I spend the entire time mentally kicking my own ass. Eventually, Cade removes the needle from the crook of my arm. “All right. We’re done. Here, take this,” Cade tells me. I lower my arm, eyeing the four white tablets in the palm of his hand with suspicion.
    “What is it?”
    “ Azithromycin.”
    “Where did you get it?”
    “Carnie had the clap last month. Said it knocked it right on the head.” Cade grins as he says this, the motherfucker.
    “Fantastic. Now I’m taking medication from Carnie’s dick infections.”
    “I’ve given you some pretty sweet codeine in there too,” Cade informs me. You’re gonna feel really good in about twenty minutes.”
    I take the pills because I don’t really feel like heading down to the local doctor’s surgery and getting my own prescription of antibiotics. At this stage, I couldn’t manage that anyway, even if I really did feel like answering the probing questions that come with a stab wound consultation.
    Cade slips out of the cabin, leaving me on my back, staring up the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to say to the quiet girl hovering in the corner of the room.
    I’m such a complete and utter asshole. I shouldn’t have even come storming back up the hill to the cabin when we got back from Ramirez’s farmhouse. I should have just kept my cool and stayed on track. Stayed the fuck away. But, oh no, I had to be in a shitty mood. I had to fucking see her.
    “Does it hurt?” Sophia’s voice is soft, and yet it feels like a slap to the face. One I deserve, and then some. When I open my eyes, she’s sitting on the floor a few feet away from the bed, like she’s afraid I’m about to jump up and backhand her. Seeing the panic in her eyes makes me feel physically sick all over again.
    “Not really,” I lie. “Could be worse.” Yeah, I could be fucking dead.
    “You feel a bit better now?” She sounds like she’s on the brink of tears. There’s a defiant look on her face, but her hands are shaking. I can see the slight tremor as she twists a piece of thread over and over around her fingers. God, she’s so damn beautiful. Why couldn’t a dude have witnessed Ryan’s murder? If she were a dude, I would not be having this problem. But then again, if she were a dude, Dela Vega would have murdered her on the spot after seeing what went down. She would have had absolutely no purpose to him. At least as a woman, he knew Ramirez might want to make some quick cash off her.
    “I’ll be fine tomorrow,” I tell her. I won’t be fine tomorrow. Truth be told, I’m probably going to be out of commission for days, if not weeks, because of this injury. And being out of commission’s something I really can’t afford to be right now.
    I can’t think about that, though. My head is still swimming. Keep my damn eyes open is becoming an almost impossible task, and the bed feels like it’s pitching and rolling like a motherfucking sailboat.
    “I could have run, y’know,” Sophia whispers softly. “I could have just gone, run off into the night and left you here. I’d probably be halfway to the next city by now.”
    “You mean you’d probably be vulture bait ,” I say, correcting her. But I know she’s right. She could have just left me to die. If she’d made a different decision when I sent her running out of here, there’s no