Page 88 of Spring Break Fling

Diego emerged from the back room, carrying a broken lamp. “If you’re looking for Nikko, join the club. He’s not answering me, either.”

“Is he mad at you?” I asked.

Diego chuckled. “Maybe. I don’t know why he would be. I didn’t do shit.”

“I’ll call him,” Jessie offered.

“Hope he didn’t go on a bender,” Diego said. “Getting fired sucks.”

I watched as Jessie called him. She frowned. “He’s not answering. I’ll text him.”

“He’s probably passed out cold,” Diego said. “Remember that one time? He got into a fight with his old man then drank for a day and slept two days. He was wrecked.”

Jessie frowned as she stared at her screen.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“We should check on him,” Jessie said. Her concern was evident.

That troubled me. I had been a little worried, but now I was seriously concerned. Jessie grabbed her keys and motioned for me to follow her. Diego nodded, already heading for the door.

“Wait—what if he’s fine and we’re overreacting?” I asked, jogging to keep up. “If he doesn’t want to talk, maybe we should give him space.”

Jessie shot me a look. “If he’s fine, we’ll all laugh about it later. If he’s not, at least we’ll be there.”

I didn’t have a good argument against that. If he got mad when he saw me with his friends, I would cross that bridge when I got to it. In that moment, I needed to know he was okay.

We pulled up to Nikko’s place a little after noon. His bike and car were in the driveway, which gave me a flicker of hope—until we knocked, and there was no answer.

Diego frowned. “He’s definitely here.”

Jessie exchanged a look with him before pulling a spare key from her pocket. “He’s gonna kill me for this,” she muttered, unlocking the door.

The place was dark, curtains drawn tight. A faint whiff of stale beer hit my nose as we stepped inside.

“Yep, a bender,” Diego said. He walked into the living room and turned on the light. “Oh shit.”

I walked behind him and looked down. That was when I understood.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

Nikko was sprawled on the couch, shirtless and looking like he’d gone three rounds in a cage match. His face was a mess—black eye, bruised jaw, and a busted lip. His knuckles looked swollen and raw. I didn’t even want to think about what might be hiding under the blanket draped over his legs.

Diego knelt beside the couch and shook Nikko’s shoulder. “Hey, man. Wake up.”

Nikko groaned, swatting at Diego like he was a particularly annoying fly. “Go away,” he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred.

Jessie crossed her arms. “What the hell, Nikko? You’ve been ignoring us all morning. We’re not going anywhere.”

He cracked one eye open and glared at her. “Didn’t ask for a search party.”

I stood frozen, unsure whether to cry or yell at him. “Nikko, what happened to you?”

His gaze flicked to me, and something in his expression hardened. “Why are you here?”

The accusation in his eyes cut through me like a knife.

“Because I was worried,” I shot back, my voice shaking. “And clearly, I had a reason to be.”