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When I reach the pool house behind him, he’s already assessing the situation with a cool efficiency I’d never be capable of.
“Bring me a flashlight, a blanket, water, and the first-aid kit,” he orders.
My mind is a jumble of thoughts as I race back into the pool house and gather the items he requested, carrying them to him as fast as I can. When I return, Theo has Landon rolled onto his side, examining his face. But it isn’t until he shines the flashlight that we see the extent of the damages.
There are claw marks down his cheek like a rabid animal attacked him, and there’s an ugly round burn mark on his neck. Dried blood coats his temple, and there’s a big patch on his scalp where he’s missing a clump of hair.
It makes my heart ache unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. And right now, I don’t care if it’s right or wrong. I’m miserable over this.
“Landon, can you tell me what happened?” Theo asks.
A stifled sound escapes me as I collapse onto the grass beside them. I hate that I react this way whenever something horrible happens, but it’s just the way I’m hardwired. My natural response is to freak out and cry, and I tell myself that’s all this is. That’s why I’m panicking.
Landon tries to talk, but his voice is too hoarse to understand. Theo helps him take a drink from the water bottle, and then he tries again.
“There’s a gash on your head,” Theo says. “These wounds tend to bleed a lot, but it should be okay once you get stitches. We can take you to the hospital, and they’ll check for a concussion.”
“No hospital,” Landon growls, and he seems to be coming around, but not enough that I trust him to make any decisions for himself.
“Yes, you need to go to the hospital,” I argue.
“No.” He meets my gaze, and the pain in his eyes nearly chokes the life out of me. “The media.”
That’s all he needs to say. Whatever happened, he doesn’t want anyone finding out. And he doesn’t trust that someone won’t leak the story to the press if he goes to the hospital. It’s the first time I’ve stopped to think about what that’s like for him. He can’t even get medical attention without someone invading his privacy.
“We can give them a fake name,” Theo suggests.
“No,” he grunts. “Just take me home.”
Theo sighs. “Kail, can you grab his other side?”
I position myself on the opposite side of Landon, and between the three of us, we manage to get him upright and on his feet. Theo steers us into the pool house, where we deposit him on the same gray lounger he decided to make his bed on the other night before I discovered him.
“I’ll stitch him up here.” Theo pulls a stool up beside the lounger. “Can you grab the first-aid kit?”
I retrieve the kit from outside and any other supplies I think he might need while he works on cleaning up Landon’s wounds. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, after hydrating and resting, Landon seems to be coherent enough to talk in complete sentences. Theo asks him a series of questions about the current date and year and then tests his vision with his finger. Landon answers everything clearly, and after he gets annoyed by all the questions, he makes a startling admission.
“I don’t have a concussion,” he insists quietly. “It’s just the blood. There was so much of it. I think I just got woozy.”
I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Landon embarrassed. But this strangely intimate detail relieves me more than he could know. It makes him human. It almost makes us even for my ridiculous fit outside.
“Well, that explains a lot.” Theo snaps off his gloves and starts to clean up the supplies. “But I’d still advise you to see a doctor. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”
“I’m okay now,” Landon assures him. “Thanks, Mr. Grant.”
“Is there someone we can call for you?” Theo asks, but his voice betrays a hesitancy that leads me to believe he knows more about Landon’s situation than he’s letting on. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“He can stay here,” I volunteer. “I’ll keep an eye on him, just for tonight.”
Theo dithers as he tosses a heap of gauze and wrappers in the rubbish can. I know what he’s thinking. It isn’t his job to parent me. He’s not my birth father, and he knows my mom trusts my judgment. Not to mention the fact that they’ve obviously developed some kind of relationship with Landon in my absence, which means they must trust him too. I’m almost eighteen, and they aren’t naïve enough to believe I’m a saint. My mom has given me multiple embarrassing talks about the birds and the bees, and to make matters worse, she bought me a jumbo box of condoms, just in case.
