Someone is knocking at the door and ringing the bell.
Well, good luck with that. I seriously can’t move, my limbs heavy like lead. My heart is pounding, my mouth is dry, and every attempt to sit up straighter brings more bile up my throat.
My eyes are closing. Maybe I can catch a few winks.
I must have been bad in a past life to deserve this, I think, falling asleep slowly, in degrees—a darkness at a time. Real bad. A murderer of babies or something. Must have kicked puppies for a living. I don’t know. Bad.
God, I wish Manon was here, her hand on my face, soft and warm, like last night. Last night, which seems more and more like a dream that was never true.
***
“Jesus, Seffers, whatcha doing?” a voice says directly above me. “What the fuck?”
Shane?
Someone shakes me so hard my teeth rattle, and oh fuck, this is a bad idea. Blinking blearily, I lunge for the toilet and barely make it before I hurl again.
God, my throat burns. There’s nothing left in my stomach to puke out.
“Fucking hell,” another voice says, and I’m being hauled up, my arms pulled over the guys’ shoulders. Micah has my left arm, and Ocean has my right.
Another bad idea. My knee does buckle this time, and now everyone’s cursing as they try to keep me upright.
“What the hell, man?” Ocean mutters when I hiss and try to pull back my arm.
“That’s the one that was dislocated,” Micah grinds out, and yeah, I’m a wreck. Great, huh? And these are just my recent run-ins with fate.
“Fuck.” Ocean lets my arm down, and I curl it over my stomach. “Sorry.”
“What happened here?” Shane flushes the toilet and scowls down at it.
“Sandwich,” I mutter.
“What, food poisoning? You serious?” Shane sounds disgusted. “My sandwich was fine. Man, we’ve been going to that deli for months now. That’s rotten luck.”
Told ya. But I don’t have the energy to talk anymore. I just want to be left alone on my bed, to curl up and sleep. I wanna be alone, goddammit.
I’ve had enough.
But it’s not happening.
“I’m staying with him,” Ocean says as Micah drags me toward the sofa. “Make sure he’s okay.”
“Don’t need you to stay,” I grouse, weaving on my feet. Damn, so dizzy. “’M fine.”
“Make him drink water,” Micah says, talking over my head as he lowers me down. “Eat crackers.”
“Ain’t got no crackers.” I glare up at Micah who blinks.
“I’ll go buy the goddamn crackers.” He huffs. “Man, did you hit your head or something? You’re acting weird.”
Did I…? I gape at him as he walks away, because the truth is, I’m not sure.
“Well, fuck you, too,” I mutter when I hear the door slam behind him, because I don’t know what to think.
“Is he always this grumpy?” Ocean drags a chair from the kitchen and sits on it backward.
“Just today,” Shane drawls.
“You motherfuckers done talking about me like I’m not here?” I twist on the sofa, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt my leg, or my shoulder, or my elbows, or any of the million goddamn spots on my body that burn and ache. “Fuck off.”
“What’s going on, Seth?” Ocean asks, because he never gives up. Maybe his past is all unicorn farts and rainbows, and everything always ends up well. “Why don’t you come to Damage anymore? Your cast is off.”
“Yeah, I’m ready for the New York marathon. Can’t you tell?”
“No, but you can walk. You could last time you came out of PT. Why are you staying locked inside? What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” I glower at Shane, daring him to say anything about my knee, about my past. I double-dare you, cousin.
He says nothing.
Ocean sighs. “You can barely walk now. What happened? Are you going to physio?”
“He missed one session this morning,” Shane says. Always so helpful.
Yeah, well. I close my eyes and decide I’ve had enough of today. I’ll sleep this off and hope tomorrow is luckier.
Yeah, like that’s ever an option.
***
Someone is shaking me awake.
Again.
Goddammit, what’s wrong with these people? I twist and push whoever it is away from me. The twinge in my shoulder and the burning in my elbows and hands stops me short. I groan and blink my eyes open.
Big mistake. Pain stabs the back of my eyeballs. I fall back on the sofa and throw an arm over my face.
“Go away,” I hiss.
“Hey, tough guy. Talk to me.”
I lift my arm a fraction, startled. “Ash?”
Asher Devlin, Zane’s best friend, ex-MMA fighter. He’s sitting in a chair right next to me. And behind him stands Dylan, hands in pockets, looking down at me. They’re both in college with sports scholarships. Dylan is in football and Ash…
Can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?
“Seth.” Asher is leaning in so close I’m going cross-eyed trying to focus on his face, and damn my skull is about to explode. “Don’t zone out on me. I asked you a question.”
He did?
“His hands are all scraped up,” Dylan says. “Elbows, too. Should check the back of his head.”
Okay, definitely missed some chunks of conversation, because this is making no fucking sense.
“Hey man.” Asher is frowning down at me like I’ve got something written on my forehead. “Did you fall down yesterday? Did you hit your head? This is important.”
“I didn’t…” Wait a sec. “Maybe I did. Ran into a car and—”
“A car? You fucking serious?” Dylan is now in my face, face flushed red. “What happened?”
“Just crossing a street. It was raining. Driver didn’t see me.”
“Jesus Christ, Seth.” Dylan straightens and starts pacing, running his hands over his short hair. “You could’ve been killed.”
“Well, I wasn’t.” Fuck, my head. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes. “Stop talking. Headache.”
“You been dizzy since then?” Asher is asking, and damn, can’t he shut up for a second? “Disoriented, confused?”
“I was almost run over. Damn right I was confused.” Ow. “Happy?”
“Damn.” He sighs and scratches at his chin. “Sorry, Seth. I think you might have a concussion. We need to get you to a doctor.”
Oh fuck. That wakes me up all the way. “No way. I’m okay. Not going back to the hospital.”
“You need to be seen by a doc, buddy,” Asher says. “Doesn’t have to be the hospital. This is serious. Not leaving here without you.”
“Jesus, Ash.” When did we go from food poisoning to concussion?
Figures, though. Food poisoning just wasn’t bad enough, was it?
“Come on, we’ll help you up.”
“Wait. Wait.” I lift my hand and squint at them. The overhead light is like splinters driving into my eyeballs. “Medicaid covers this, right?”
This is important. I’m kinda broke right now. Out of job. Out of options.
“Tell me you know who hit you. Dammit, Seth, was it a hit-and-run?” Dylan looks murderous.
I think of Manon and grimace. “No, that’s not how it went down. She stopped the car in time, but I slipped and fell. It was raining.”
“What the hell were you thinking, going out in the rain?” Dylan is still pacing, and he’s making me so dizzy I might just hurl all over the sofa.
“Had to buy some stuff. Are we fucking done with the twenty questions?”
Asher shakes his head, chews on the inside of his cheek. “Not really. Guys tell me you having trouble with your knee? This something new?”
Goddammit. I so do not need this moronic interrogation. Not today. “None of your business.”
“Yeah? You sure it’s not something I should know?”
“I’m sure.”
“If it’s a complication from breaking your leg, if they didn’t set it right—”
“Back off, Ash. I mean it.”
He gives me a long, hard look. “Dickhead. Just looking out for you. We’re a family, dammit. It’s what we do.”
Dylan has stopped pacing and is staring at me as well.