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“What happened?” I scanned the paramedic’s face, relief coursing through my body at the knowledge he was okay.
The paramedic glanced over at the policewoman, who coughed discreetly. “Drunk driver on a joyride hit his car.”
“Shit. Okay. So he’s okay?” I asked, just to make sure.
“He will be. He’s been thoroughly checked out in the ambulance. He’s very shaken up, and he needs someone to be with him, to make sure that he gets some rest and takes the pain relievers he’s been prescribed. If the safety features in his car hadn’t been so good, and if he hadn’t had luck on his side…we might be looking at a completely different story.”
“Okay,” I said again. Fuck. My brain didn’t seem to be working properly.
“Would you like to see him? He’s been cleared to go home.” Leaning closer, the paramedic murmured, “Between you and me, I’d prefer to take him into the hospital and keep him overnight for observation, but with the cuts they’ve made…unless we have a strong case for taking him in, he has to go home.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll, uh, sit with him. Make sure he’s okay.”
The paramedic smiled. “If only more of our patients had siblings as caring as you.” If only he knew the truth. “If you’re concerned at all, call NHS Direct, and if his condition worsens, dial 999.”
"Uh…”
“He’s going to be okay. It won’t come to that, I’m sure of it.” With those words, he directed me to climb inside the ambulance, where I got my first look at Huxley.
He was sitting up on the metal bed, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, sipping from a bottle of water through a straw. His face was drained of colour, with a grey pallor, and there were several small cuts on his face. The skin around his eyes was a little swollen and red, and I knew that it would darken to a purple by tomorrow.
I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to approach him. Eventually I went for the simplest option. “Hi.”
His eyes finally met mine, and I was taken aback by the hostility in them, far stronger than the relief that had flickered in his gaze for the tiniest moment. I shouldn’t have been, because that was standard from him, but I thought that maybe the accident would have made him a little less… He’d chosen to call me, hadn’t he? Instead of one of his friends?
“You came?” he said, and there was a definite question in his words.
Had he thought I wouldn’t? Okay, we couldn’t stand each other, but there hadn’t ever been a question in my mind. The second I’d picked up the phone and heard what had happened, all I could think about was getting to him as fast as I could. “Yeah.”
“Just to make it clear,” he rasped. “You’re the last fucking person I wanted to call.” Dragging his hand across his face, he visibly winced, gritting his teeth as his palm skimmed over the cuts and bruises. He let out a frustrated huff of breath. “I didn’t have any other option. It was you or no one.”
I stored that information for later, when I could interrogate him about it when he wasn’t looking like he was about to pass out any minute. “Are you ready to go? I’ll get us a taxi.”
“Fuck’s sake. Where’s your car?”
“I was at work. I don’t drive there, there’s nowhere to park.”
He grunted, and that was a good enough reply for me. As much as I enjoyed mentally sparring with him, even I wasn’t enough of a dick to do it when he’d just had a traumatic experience. Pulling out my phone, I booked an Uber to take us both home.
“How’s my car?” was the only question he asked me during the otherwise silent ride back to the house. We’d gone out of the other end of the road, because I hadn’t wanted him to see the scene of the accident.
I swallowed hard, staring out of the window. “It was…it was wrecked.”
There was no reply, but when I turned my head and a streetlamp illuminated the inside of the car, I saw him bite down on his trembling lip, and a tear fall from his closed eyes.
6
COLE
Huxley had spent most of the next couple of days sleeping. I figured it was good for his recovery. I’d called the boss of my volunteer admin assistant job—hopefully eventually to be a paid job—explaining the situation, and lucky for me, he’d given me the okay to work from home. Even luckier, I wasn’t scheduled to work any shifts at Revolve until the following week, so I was able to keep an eye on Huxley.
Not that either of us were particularly happy about the situation. Huxley was resentful as fuck that I was the one to be looking out for him, and I was resentful as fuck for the same reason. I hadn’t yet asked him why he’d chosen me to call, despite his network of friends, and I hadn’t even wanted to broach the subject because every time I’d seen him, our conversations consisted of me reminding him to take his medication and him giving me the finger or telling me to fuck off out of his bedroom.
Today, though, enough was enough. Two and a half days of rest was plenty. He was going to answer my questions, whether he wanted to or not.
First of all, I needed to sweeten him up. From what I remembered of the two-ish months we’d lived under the same roof, he was not a morning person. So I used the expensive coffee machine in the kitchen to make him a latte loaded with caramel syrup. By the way, his sweet tooth was the only thing sweet about him.
Entering his bedroom without knocking, I placed the mug of coffee on his bedside table. He hadn’t bothered locking the door after the first night, when I’d threatened to smash his door in if he tried to lock me out. Just because I didn’t like him, didn’t mean that I was going to leave him alone. As it stood, I had responsibility for him, no matter how unhappy we both were about it, and I wasn’t going to be the one to explain to his dad why something bad had happened to him under my care.
