Page 58 of The Fire Walker
Jessie
Ifistedmy hands in Dee’s shirt, pulling at him so he would get off theground.
His lip was split, and there was a cut above his left eye that was dripping blood down his face. The other guy didn’t look much better, but it had been three onone.
“Get off me,” he said sharply, shoving my hands away and scrambling to hisfeet.
“No,” I said, pulling him through the crowd. “The cops arecoming.”
“How the fuck do you knowthat?”
I grimaced. “You don’t want to know. If we don’t leave, they’ll probably throw you in jail for the night.” I looked around for the other guys, but they’d already split. They knew the score, which probably meant they got into fights all the time for the kicks. Real upstanding human beings…not.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Dee said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He only succeeded in smearing the bloodmore.
“Fuck you, Dee.” I was sick and tired of his sullen woe is me attitude. Just when things were starting to mellow, he went and said stupid things like that. I grabbed his wrist and led him from the bar, people parting to let us through. Either he was surprised at my outburst or he had concussion because he didn’t argue anymore. I hardly ever swore, but I’d had enough ofeverything.
Out in the lot, the air was cool and refreshing after the melting pot of bodies inside. The coast was clear, the rednecks having disappeared into the sunset, so I turned and shoved my hand into the pocket of Dee’sjeans.
“Hey,” he said, trying to twist away fromme.
“I’m just getting the keys,” I snapped. “I’m not trying to feel you up.” I pressed the button on the fob, and the doors clicked open. “Getin.”
He slid into the passenger seat, a scowl firmly etched on his face. My eyes ran over the trails of blood that had dripped down onto his shirt and made adecision.
As I pulled the car out onto the highway, I caught sight of the blue and red lights of a cop car in the rearview mirror. I’d been right but didn’t bother mentioningit.
“Where are you going?” he asked, catching on that we weren’t going back to themotel.
“I’m taking you to the emergencyroom.”
“Fuck, no.” He sounded majorly pissedoff.
“That cut above your eye is nasty, Dee. It might need a couple ofstitches.”
“I saidno.”
I cringed as his words sliced through me. I knew he would just walk away the moment the car stopped, so with an annoyed sigh, I pulled over and did a U-turn to go back to the motel. I thought about the things I’d given up to even be here right now, and white-hot anger simmered in my stomach. Dee just wanted to punish me. He never wanted to listen to an apology. He wanted to punish me and keep rubbing it in like a fuckingchild.
I pulled into the gas station and without a word, climbed out the car and went into the overly lit store, looking for some antiseptic wipes. If Dee was stupid enough not to get his head looked at, I was going to make him clean it up properly, and I didn’t care how much he complained. He’d gotten into a fight to protect me. It was then that my thoughts caught up with me. He’d tried toprotectme.
Maybe he didn’t hate me after all. Things had started to smooth out, so maybe it would be okay. By the time we got back to New York, maybe we would beokay.
Looking over the meager selection in the medicinal aisle, which was just a shelf tacked onto the candy bars, I grabbed a travel-sized pack of antiseptic wipes. I went up to the front counter, pulled change out of my pocket and practically threw it at the guy behind the register, and stormed back out to thecar.
Without a word, I drove us back to the motel, pulling into a spot in front of the door to our room. Dee was out and inside before I had a chance to lock the car behind me. Following him in, I went to grab hiswrist.
“Just leave it alone,” he said, knocking my hand out of theway.
Determined not to let him get his way, I pushed him back onto the bed with a hard jab to his chest. “Stop being such a stupid jerk, and let me take care of you. It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to go to the hospital.” He looked at me like I was either a crazy bitch or just plain mental. “Yeah,” I continued, seriously riled up, “when you push me, I biteback.”
I pulled out the travel-sized antiseptic wipes from my back pocket. The cut above his eye looked deep, and who knew what nasty stuff was growing on the floor of that bar. Not to mention where that guy’s nasty hands had been. Cleaning the blood off with antiseptic was better than with soap andwater.
Pulling a chair over, I sat in front of Dee, our knees pressed together. Despite how pissed I was at him, the mere act of touching was electrifying. Biting my lower lip, I opened the wipes, took one out, and began dabbing the cut over his eyebrow. As soon as the antiseptic hit the open wound, he pulled away with ahiss.
“Keep still,” I murmured, putting my other hand on his shoulder and dabbing again, cleaning the dried blood away. I didn’t know much about cuts, but now that it was clean, this one didn’t look that deep, and he probably would’ve gotten away withoutstitches.
He sat there without complaint as I moved onto the cut on his lip, and my thoughts instantly went to that night we’d spent together. I felt that place between my legs stir, and my breath caught. Dropping my hands, my gaze flickered up to find his locked on me. I just wanted to press forward, push him back onto the bed, and touch every part of him. I wanted to feel that fire like I had that night. I wanted to go back so badly and changeeverything.
