Page 29 of Seamus's Basement
“What was that?” he asked as he walked over. “I was outside so I didn’t hear you.”
“Oh, I was just talking to myself. I had too many sodas at work and my brain is so fried that I forgot the water doesn’t work.”
Instinctively, he turned toward the toilet. “Probably doesn’t matter if you can’t flush when it’s going to be…” The words caught in his throat. “Is that blood?” He moved closer and looked in the toilet bowl. “It is.” Heart racing, he flipped around. “We need to go to the hospital now.”
“I’m fine.”
He clutched DJ’s shoulders. “You’re pissing blood. How is that fine?”
“It’s only a little blood.” He set his palms on Seamus’s chest. “It’ll clear up in a few days. Nothing to worry about.”
How was DJ being so nonchalant about something so serious? “This has happened before? Are you sick?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he said soothingly, as if Seamus was the one who was hurt.
“Then what it is?”
He pressed his lips together and looked at him appraisingly, as if weighing his options, and then he loudly breathed out. “The loan shark was in town today. He wasn’t happy and he…” He bit his lip.
Mind racing, Seamus put the pieces together. “He punched you so hard he injured your kidneys.” He flipped DJ around, lifted his shirt, and almost collapsed when he saw the bruisesforming over his lower back and flank. “We’re going to the hospital.” He hunched down and took DJ into his arms, cradling him against his chest.
“Holy fuck,” DJ said breathlessly, his eyes wide. “You are mad strong and this is so hot.”
Seamus jolted, that reaction taking him off guard. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not joking,” DJ insisted. “And I suggest you put me down or I might get the wrong idea.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Yes,” DJ conceded. “But I know my body, and I promise, I’ll heal on my own. I’m not going to the hospital.”
He tightened his grip, bringing DJ closer.
“Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse and I heal quickly.”
Heart racing, Seamus considered the implications of that statement.
“Hey.” DJ cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Are you scared?”
“Of course I’m scared! Have you seen what he did to you?”
“I’m sorry. How about this? If I feel anything serious or if the blood doesn’t clear up by the end of the week, I’ll see a doctor.”
He hated that plan but he strongly suspected it was the best one he’d be offered. “You take off work and rest until that happens and you have a deal.”
“I can’t not work,” DJ said, panicked.
“You’re allowed to call in sick. People do it all the time.”
“Well, I don’t. And I need the money,” he said stubbornly.
Seamus wasn’t bothered by much and he generally let things roll off his back, but not this. “You do now. And I’m going to help you figure out your money situation. We’re going to talk about it at home.” He carefully evaluated DJ’s face. “Tomorrow. Tonight, we’re getting you cleaned up and then you’re going to sleep. Text Brewster and Tanner and Brent right now.”
DJ jutted his chin out in protest.
Two could play at that game, so Seamus arched his eyebrows and stared him down.
“Fine. But you have to let me go so I can get my phone.”
