Page 136 of Fight or Flight
We’ve only moved a few feet when he groans weakly and goes limp in my arms.
“Shane?” I give him a little shake.
His skin is ghostly white now, and his eyes are barely open as his head hangs on his neck, his chin on his chest.
His blood pressure is bottoming out, and he’s at risk of completely passing out on me.
“Not invested, hmmm?”
I’m not surprised by Jax’s voice or when he seems to melt out of the shadows like some sort of specter in front of me.
“Are you going to gloat, or help?”
Wordlessly, he ducks under Shane’s other arm so we can support him between us as we drag him to the back door.
We don’t run into anyone as we get him into the elevator and then up to the second floor.
We pass a couple of freshmen while we’re bringing him to his room, but they know better than to say anything and flatten themselves against the wall so we can pass before rushing down the hall in their haste to get out of our way.
Once we’re at his door, I feel around in his pockets for his card.
I find it in his front pocket, but his jeans are tight around his hips, and it takes some work to get it out.
When his door is finally unlocked, Jax helps me get Shane into his room.
“Are you going to admit that there’s something going on?” he asks, giving me a pointed look as we lay Shane on his bed. “Or are we just going to keep pretending like this is totally normal and you’re not emotionally invested?”
“No one’s pretending,” I tell him. “Not anymore.”
He nods. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I give him an upnod and turn my attention back to Shane as Jax leaves the room.
He’s in rough shape, but some of his color seems to be coming back now that he’s lying down.
Gently, I press my fingers against his pulse point. It’s slow and weak, but it’s steady, and his breathing is better.
There’s still a chance he could take a turn for the worse and even OD, but right now he’s stable. Another weird sensation washes over me as the tension I’ve been carrying since he texted lessens and a sense of calm replaces the restlessness from before.
“Jace?” he whispers, his glassy eyes only half open as he fixes his stare on me.
“It’s me,” I tell him.
He lets out a little sigh, and the corners of his lips tip up in a barely there smile that makes my stomach clench in a way I’ve never felt before.
Shaking off whatever the fuck that was, I put one knee on the bed and brace myself as I lean over so I can take his clothes off and get him under the covers.
He might be stable, but he’s going to have a hell of a time regulating his body temperature as the pills wear off, and he’ll get better rest if he’s comfortable.
He watches me with heavy eyes as I tug off his shoes and socks, then undo his pants. He’s not able to help at all, and it’s slow going as I peel his jeans down his legs and pull them off.
After some struggling, I end up straddling him and hauling him up so he’s sitting and leaning against me while I get his shirt and sweater off. Once he’s lying back down again, I tug his sheets out from under him and cover him up.
He visibly relaxes and mumbles something I can’t make out. I can see that he’s fighting sleep as his eyelids flutter and he struggles to keep focused on me.
“Go to sleep,” I tell him. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
He rolls onto his side and curls up in the fetal position. A few seconds later, his breathing evens out as he falls asleep.
