Page 98 of Bad Boy
I nudge him. “Hey, don’t go to sleep.”
“We’ve been in fight-or-flight for too long, Remi. Our adrenaline is crashin’ hard. I’m tired.”
“I know, baby,” I murmur softly, letting go of my side so I can pull him into my arms, not giving a shit if I’m smearing blood on him.
I slip my phone out of my hoodie pocket. Ignoring all texts, I open the phone app and scroll to Otto’s name.
“Remi?” he answers on the first ring, voice dripping with concern.
“Out front,” I grunt before ending the call. I can’t do phone conversations at the moment.
Not even thirty seconds later, I hear the lock click, the bell chiming as the door opens, and Otto steps out.
“Jesus Christ, kid!What the fuck happened?” Otto shouts at us, his voice echoing into the night.
“Just help me get him up,” I grit out between clenched teeth as I try to contain the fresh hell burning me from the inside out where that fucker got me with his knife. It’s not too deep, just a flesh wound. But I might need a few stitches because I’mstillfucking bleeding.
“Linc. Wake up.” I shake him gently to rouse him, careful not to agitate any injury he might have sustained before I showed up. When I think about how many hits he may have taken or what horrible things they probably said to him, I want to scream and shout and burn the fucking world down.
I wince at the movement, my hand automatically darting back to the wound on my side.
“Help Linc.Please,” I beg, and I don’t even care if I sound pathetic. He’s hurt again, and it’s all my fault. I’m bad news for him. I shouldn’t have forced myself into his life like this. I brought this on him, and I don’t know if I can forgive myself.
“Please,” I implore him with my eyes, letting him see the desperation there. “I never ask for help, but look at us, Otto. We fucking need some.”
He squats down in front of us, pushing the hair back from Linc’s forehead and examining his sleeping face.
My eyes flutter, and I shut them for just a minute. Barely even a second.
“Remi. . .” Otto says urgently, like it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. His hand is on my shoulder, shaking me slightly.
“Huh?” I ask numbly. Exhaustion is taking over.
“You need a hospital. I’m taking you both.Now.”
My eyes pop open. “No! No hospital. They ask too many questions.” The disappointed look in his eyes is something I’m not used to.
“Don’t look at me like that, Otto. I didn’t start this. Mydadsent them.”
“Your dad?” The confusion on his face morphs into anger, his gray eyes turning to molten steel.
“Yeah. And they fucking jumped us.For being us.If you catch my drift.”
Do I really need to spell it out to him?
“They called us fucking faggots, Otto.”
“Fuck, kid.”He rubs his hand down his face, scratching at the dark stubble peppering his chin.
“Where are they now?” he asks, peering over his shoulder at the dark street.
“Scattered around the alleyways near Wildflower’s. Probably off licking their wounds.”
“How many?” His tight jaw barely allows the words to escape.
“Four. Now get us inside. Please. No hospitals,” I repeat, feeling impatient that we’re still on the cold cement outside.
“Remi. You’re looking too pale, kid. I don’t know.” He’s hesitant. Understandably so. I would be too. But Ican’tgo to the hospital.
