Page 32 of Wreckage of My Life
“Guns?” Ali gasps, and I roll my eyes. The chick’s annoying as hell. I don’t know what he sees in her.
“I’ll take care of it,” he pats my arm lightly, in an effort to comfort me, I guess. He then turns his head to say, “I need some help.”
I thought he was saying that to Ali, and I would’ve laughed if I had the energy, wondering how her skinny ass would be any help. That’s why I am surprised when I hear a male responding.
“We need to hurry the fuck up,” he says. “Anyone could be driving by, finding us here, and calling the cops on us.”
Wyatt jumps up, and I hear him rummaging through the bags on my bike, Ali right on his heels.
“Wyatt,” she snaps at him, her voice sounding upset for sure. “We need to call the police. This is illegal.”
“Ali,” my brother matches her snappy tone, and I’d cheer him on if I could. “Can we talk about this later? I’m a little busy.”
I black out a little after that when he and his buddy lift me off the ground, then drag my ass up from the ditch we’re in and to Wyatt’s SUV. Sweat is running down my face, soaking my hair and the thermal top I got on. The jacket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and I almost wish I could drop dead right here on this godforsaken road in Illinois.
They finally manage to get me in the passenger seat of Wyatt’s car after he leaned it back as far as it’d go, making it almost flat. Fuck knows how they’re gonna get me out of it later.
There’s some commotion outside my closed door, but I can’t focus on much. All I can gather is that the girl wants to come with Wyatt, but he wants her to go with his buddy. They go back and forth like that for a while until Wyatt gives in and opens the back door to his SUV. What a pussy.
“You got some explaining to do, Knight,” I hear her mumbling from the back. I sure hope she’s talking to Wyatt because I don’t owe her shit.
Wyatt turns the engine on and starts driving. After the fifth goddamn pothole that he hits, I black out again, which is for the best. The pain is making me sick to my stomach. If I start throwing up, I’ll be chocking to death lying on my back like this.
His buddy follows us there, then helps getting me into the house where, after lots of effort, sweating and much swearing, they drop me in a recliner in Wyatt’s living room. Thank God they thought of taking my jacket off before that, and Wyatt also noticed my holster and unsnapped it from underneath my shirt. His woman, in spite of her not liking me much, runs around to get me things and make sure I’m fine where they dropped me.
“Are you comfortable in that chair?” she asks again, and I’m ready to blow up at her. Between the pain and her hovering, I could kill people.
“I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth that feel like they’re gonna start cracking from the pressure.
“Should I bring you some water?” Jesus, she’s still here.
My eyes go to the bottle of fresh water she put on the side table by the chair. “You already did.”
“What about a pain pill?” She’s no quitter this girl, I gotta give her that. “Are you due for another one?” I can’t take it anymore.
“Wy.” I almost forget about my current physical challenges and go to push myself up when I call for my brother. Sweat breaks all over my body, taking my breath away. “Get your woman off my ass,” I gasp.
My brother comes through for me and drags her away. “Come on, Al. Let’s let Dylan get some rest, okay?”
They finally go the hell away, and not long after, I hear them going at it in his bedroom. Just friends, my ass, I grunt to myself. I also get an odd satisfaction from knowing how badly Ali will hate knowing that I can hear them having sex. Not my fault walls are thin and sound travels. That’s just physics.
All the sounds coming out of her make me think of Becca. I mean, not that my dick works right now, anyway. I’d probably die altogether if any blood went to it. But, as I stare at the wall in Wyatt’s house, I remember all the ways I made her feel good. And how good she made me feel in return. She sure left her mark on the inside of me.
Without thinking, my hand goes to the side table where my cell phone is sitting. The move causes my entire body to clench in pain. By the time I drop it in my lap, I literally cannot breathe.
I have no idea how much more time passes before I am aware of my surroundings again. With slow and calculated moves, I manage to pick up my phone again and turn it on. My thumb goes straight for Becca’s name in my contacts.
I almost call her, but it’s late, so I decide to text and see if she’s up.
Me: You there?
I smile at the screen when I see the bubble of three dots showing that she’s typing a reply.
Becca: Yes! I’m on a night shift. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon ;)
Me: I’m in Illinois, staying at my brother’s
Becca: I hope you had a good trip…
