Page 151 of Jaded

Nat hasn’t texted. Nothing to say,hey I’m sick, hey I don’t know if I can do this, hey I won’t be there . . .

Dr. Huxley would tell me not to jump to conclusions—not to assume it’s got anything to do with me. But how can I not assume that, after everything that’s happened between us? After all we’ve done and said? After I dragged him off the ice, sat him down, and told him he needed to be more, better, different?

A cold pit of black opens wide inside of me. A big, yawning cavern of emptiness. Where there should be passion and energy and life there is . . . doubt.

The true Olli James.

Chapter 38

Nat

“Howlong’shebeenlike this?” I stare down at the bed where Avery Bennett lies in a crusted pool of his own blood.

He looks bad.

Swelling on the left side of his face has sealed his eye shut, turned his skin to black and red beneath crusted blood. His lower lip’s split open, more blood. Breath wheezes out from between those blood-covered lips, and his chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, like he’s cracked or broken a rib.

Hard to tell exactly what the damage is, with blood everywhere.

“I . . . I don’t know.” Sydney hovers beside me, shoulders hunched, cheeks streaked with tears. “He was like this when I got here.”

Her hair’s yanked back in a messy tail, some of the strands escaped to frame her face in tangled brown hanks. I want to put an arm around her, pull her in close, comfort her. Tell her that, as someone who’s both taken and given a lot of beatings in my life, it’s probably not as bad as it looks.

I don’t.

“Avery.” I nudge onto the bed next to him, and he flinches slightly. Good. Conscious. “Can you hear me?”

His uninjured eye opens to glare up at me, blue in a sea of red—more good. He knows who I am and why I’m here. “Go away.”

“Yeah, not likely.” I reach out to gently pry away pieces of blond hair that have crusted into the blood on his forehead and cheeks. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“No.” His eye flutters closed again. He’s still wheezing, breath too shallow. Clearly in pain.

“Okay, well, I think it’s time to go to the hospital.”

“No,” he snarls, his eye popping back open. He half lifts himself onto his elbows, his cracked lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals teeth splattered red. “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

“All right, all right.” I set a hand on his shoulder to nudge him back down. “Don’t hurt yourself more.”

“He keeps saying that,” Syd murmurs. “But he won’t get up or clean off.”

“Where’s Mary?”

Syd shakes her head. “Out of town with Brenda at that stupid beauty expo.”

Right. Fuck.

Which means this is onmeand only me. It means I’m the adult and they’re the kids and I’m the one calling the shots.

Avery’s lying back again, breathing that same shallow rasp. Probably something bruised or broken. With how much blood’s around his head, I should probably check for a concussion too.

One thing at a time.

“Syd.” I turn back towards her, because I need her out of the room for a bit. “Want to get me some water? And maybe . . . check for a first-aid kit or something? Or at least paper towels.”

“Yeah.” She straightens with a snap, clearly glad to be given something useful to do. Without another word, she scurries out of the room.

Leaving me and Avery. “Be straight with me, kid. What happened?”

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