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The drive back to Granton was quiet and dismal. Every time I looked over at Beck, he was gazing out the passenger’s side window. I could tell he wasn’t asleep because he was sitting upright, alert enough not to slump. But he still seemed to have checked out. I even stopped for more gas, and he didn’t seem to notice.
So I let him be until we neared the city limits. “Where are you staying?” I asked.
He shook his head.
Well, shit.
After drawing in a long, sympathetic breath, I nodded. Okay, so he’d lost his home at his parents’ place and at the fraternity, and his parents had wiped out his back account so he had no money to rent a hotel room. His ex-friend, acquaintance he’d spoken of probably couldn’t put him up for the night because I think he’d been from the fraternity too. So that left…nowhere.
I blew out a breath, out of options and not sure where to take him. He probably shouldn’t be alone. He was in no state to take care of himself.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” I asked, already knowing the answer. If he’d asked me to go with him to his parents’ place for moral support, that pretty much meant he had no one to call.
One harsh, bitter laugh from him was the only answer I got.
“All right then.” I tried to look at this from all angles and find something good he could still rely upon. But he was out of housing, money, school, friends, and family. But he had…hmm, this truck! Yes, a truck was something. And what else? A job, maybe?
“Where’re you working?” I asked. Of course he had a job. Unless missing work because he was busy being arrested and gaining the reputation as the area’s worst rapist had gotten him fired.
I cringed, even as he turned to look at me. “I was a student employee for the university.”
Which meant he no longer had a job because he was no longer a student.
My shoulders slumped. “Well, fuck. I guess you’re going to have to come back to my place and crash for a few days until you figure things out.”
He merely blinked at me as if I spoke a foreign language.
“We’ll have to keep quiet when we come in, though. My roommates are probably all asleep.”
Beck turned to look back out his passenger side window. My heart broke for him. I’d be a mess too if my family had turned me out. I wanted to reach out and grip his arm comfortingly and tell him everything was going to be okay. But what the hell did I know? His future looked completely and utterly hopeless.
I couldn’t exactly tell him that to cheer him up, so I kept my trap shut and pulled into an open parking spot across the street from my apartment. After shutting off the engine, I sighed and pocketed his keys, trying to plan out how I was going to haul his comatose ass up to my room.
But after I opened my door, climbed out, and started around to his side, he was already getting out himself. “Oh,” I said, skidding to a halt when we came almost nose to nose with each other. Then I straightened and took his hand. “This way.”
I have no idea why I held his hand. I guess I didn’t trust him to wander off and get himself lost in the dark, thought honestly, I think I really did it because I wanted him to physically feel me and know I was there for him.
He blindly followed where I led, gripping my hand as if it were his only lifeline. At my door, he stopped when I stopped to unlock it. Then he moved when I moved, stepping inside. It was like leading one of those trained, seeing eye dogs.
I didn’t have to hush him because I knew there was no chance of him talking, anyway. We moved quietly up the stairs, through the darkened front room, then down the hall past Paige and Logan’s until we reached mine. After turning the handle, I pushed inside, leading him through the doorway.
Not sure what do to next, I let go of his hand to shut the door and then turned on a dim night lamp next to my bed.
I was going to say something about finding him a pillow and some extra blankets so he could crash on the floor, but the words stalled in my throat. His face was bruised and his shoulder slumped as he cradled his ribs. He looked so broken and defeated, I shook my head. I couldn’t make him sleep on the floor. I’d settled him down on the bed and then go curl up on the couch myself.
But first. “Sit down before you pass out,” I told him. When I took his arm and physically urged him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, he looked as me while he sank down onto the mattress.
“Last time a girl said that to me and pushed me down onto a bed I landed in jail.”
Then he cracked off a short bitter laugh before his face contorted with pain, as if he might start crying. But he didn’t cry. His shoulders jerked and he hiccupped a sob before shuddering out a breath. When he inhaled again, it sounded like a dry heave.
His face turned red and he gritted his teeth before clutching his chest and gasping, “Fuck, I can’t breathe.”
He’d briefly had this problem right before his mom had answered the door tonight. Remembering that I’d helped it pass by grabbing his hand, I cupped his cheeks in both hands and forced his face up so he’d look me straight in the eye.
“Yes, you can,” I said sternly. “Just breathe.”
His chest gave another huge, sputtering heave, but he breathed.
