Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ainsley

I don't know how much time passes from the moment I lock myself in the car to when the sound of sirens approaches. Blue and red lights blind me. I can finally breathe.

My phone rings—Papa's ringtone. I have trouble finding it inside the pocket of my raincoat, but I snatch it before the call goes to voicemail. His voice will help my frenzied state.

"Ainse, are you okay? Sirens are approaching the block."

"Yes." I gulp, wondering how he knows. "Well, no, I'm terrified. Porter is in my house."

I swallow the orange-sized lump in my throat. "I'm inside Eleanor."

Someone knocks on my window with urgency. Dad—Gabe.

"Ainsley, sweetheart." His blue eyes turn pale, and so does his face. "Bring a fucking doctor, Christian. She's bleeding. Good lord, her head."

A chuckle escapes me. I have no idea how I look, but I guess that Porter's blood is in my hair.

"No, that's his blood, I think. My head's throbbing, but I'm all right." I try to calm him. "My only chance at escape was to hit him in the face with my head. He hit my temple though, and it hurts."

Dad pulls me out of the car and hugs me, making circles with his hand while we observe the movement around my house. A few officers go inside. Papa is next to one of them with his arms crossed. His gaze moves from the door to me.

"I didn't know you were in town," my words muffled in his chest.

"We wanted to check on you."

They've called me so many times in the past two days, it's as if they had a hunch that something would happen to me. "I told you I was fine, Dad. Until a few hours or minutes ago." I point at the door where I'm hoping they'll soon bring Porter out. "He's gone insane. My guess is that switching my phone number wasn't enough."

Papa and the officer, who waited beside him, approach us. "Come here, baby girl. The officer would like your statement. We can do it right here or tomorrow, which I prefer. I want to take you to the hospital."

"Where is he? Porter?"

"No one is there, Ainse," he whispers. "They're organizing a manhunt. Don't worry about him."

The officer asks again for my statement.

"Tomorrow," I tell him. "I need food and my bed. My head's killing me."

"First, we head to the hospital." Chris touches my head. "Then I'll feed you."

Anderson Hawkins appears in front of me.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" I nod. "Wait until Bradley hears about this. He will kill that asshole."

"Please, don't tell Mase," I request. "I'm fine. This is Porter's blood. I smashed his nose with my head."

"You broke his nose?" He raises his hand and high-fives me.

My parents, my brothers, and I arrive home after a long wait in the hospital. An aggravating smell of antiseptic follows me around. A nurse washed my hair with some weird-smelling soap to avoid cross-contamination and to see if I had more wounds than the one on my temple.

They ran an MRI. My head didn't crack with either bump—the gun or Porter's head.

"Hey," Matt hugs me as we step inside my parents' house. "You look better than when I arrived at the hospital."

"Not loving the stitches, but I'm doing well." I touch my temple. "You?"

"Not great." He hugs me tighter. "He was family, Ainse. Not blood, but family, nonetheless. We all tried so freaking hard to help, and he almost killed my baby sister, damn it."

I feel another set of arms hugging me, and I know it's Jacob. "Want anything, little sis?"

"I'm okay, Jackie." He doesn't protest.

I barely call him that, but when I do, he usually goes off and tries his best to tease me. Dad and Papa called us Jackie, Mattie, and Ainsy when we were toddlers. I only use them on special occasions. Today calls for that.

"Stop scaring the shit out of us. You know I hate hospitals." He squeezes me tighter. "Nothing good happens in those places."

No one likes hospitals. I dislike them just as much.

"Are you staying tonight?" Dad asks.

"Only if I can camp in your room, Dad." That's what I did when Great Grandpa died.

We were eight when we lost him, and for three days, I slept in my sleeping bag on the floor of their room. My brothers joined the cause that same night. My parents gave up on the fourth day, and the three of us slept in their bed for another few nights. The joy of having a custom bed for two tall men and three children who sometimes needed to crash while the goblins and monsters rummaged their rooms.

"We're not dying." He kisses my temple.

Back then, I feared if Great Grandpa died, they could be next. My stomach hurt. I dry-heaved and cried for hours, afraid my parents would die. It never fails in this family. When one catches a bug, the other two follow behind. My two brothers followed my lead, and we had difficulty separating from them.

"You can't guarantee that," I retort without saying, I almost did . "One night, please?"

"I'm too old for that shit. Jacob, you?" Matt's annoyed voice draws a faint smile from my lips. Jacob doesn't respond, but the thick atmosphere lightens up some.

"Of course, you can stay with us, baby girl. I'll kick your father out of the bed if the three of us won't fit." Papa joins the group hug. "Stay longer than a day, until they clean your place. You scared the shit out of us."

"Can I use one of your guest rooms?" Jacob finally speaks up. "Just in case she can't sleep, and I have to pitch in."

"Good idea, bro," Matt supports him. "I'll use the other. She can be pretty dramatic, and what if Porter reappears and they need us?"

"I think we did well as parents, Chris." Dad's resigned voice comes closer, and we tighten the circle of five. "They seem to care for us. You all can stay. Maybe we'll head to Baja sooner, kids. I love you."

"I love you all," I mumble.