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He grabs the suit off the rack and his duffle bag from the floor before turning on his heel. “Clean this fucking mess up before you leave. I’ll see you Thursday.” His clipped instructions are the only goodbye I get.
I stare down at my useless arm and wonder how the fuck I’m going to get out of this one. I knew it was only a matter of time before I needed professional help after one of Carson’s fits, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. That the hit would come from something that didn’t have anything to do with me.
With my good hand, I quickly google the best ways to treat a dislocated shoulder. Could I manage to pop it back into place on my own? Seems unlikely and like an incredibly stupid thing to do, but that seems about on par with most of my decisions recently.
Alright, ice and keep it close to the body. I can keep it close to my body, but there’s no ice in here. Thanks to Carson’s fit, I don’t even have a shirt so it’s not like I can freely walk downstairs. I sit in a heap on the floor and contemplate my options. At least some of the immediate pain has subsided as long as I don’t jostle my arm. Shelby would help, but too many questions would arise at her presence. Huh. Shelby’s the only one I got. My only option and it isn’t really a good one for this.
I look around at the shirts in Carson’s closet, not my first choice but better than being in a bra. I grab a button down, thinking it should be easier to slip on over my injured arm but even attempting it makes the white hot pain flare back up. I barely manage to get my fingers to the sleeve before I have to drop the shirt.
Fuck. That’s harder than I thought it would be.
I pant with the exertion. That’s embarrassing. Maybe I need to start working out again. I used to do it often enough with the guys seeing as how they lived in the gym and Ash and I liked to run together. I haven’t really kept up with it the last few months though. My body hasn’t really been in the right condition for it.
Huffing in frustration, I blow my hair out of my face as I stare down at the shirt with contempt. One way or another that shirt needs to get on my body.
Just then a knock on the door draws me from my thoughts. My eyes go wide as I hear it creak open. “Hey, Brielle. You here?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’m ninety percent positive that it’s Jake, which isn’t the worst person to find me. But it sure as hell isn’t the best either. I bite down my lip, trying to stay quiet. Maybe he will just go away.
“I saw you and Carson come in but only he left,” he explains with a nervous chuckle.
Fuck.
I wrack my brain trying to figure out a way out of this situation, but can’t. The door creaks open once more.
“Fucking Christ,” he curses. Shit. Apparently he just got his first real look at the disaster Carson left for me. “Brielle,” he calls out a little more anxiously.
I waver. Guilt flooding me at his concern for me. But before I have a chance to make a decision either way, he turns the corner and sees me crumpled on the ground.
“Holy shit!” He runs toward me, falling to his knees in front of me. “Fuck, Brielle.”
I laugh nervously. “I fell?”
He raises an unamused brow at me. “How long has this been going on?” he asks as he gently lifts my chin to examine my cheek. Dammit. Forgot that it’s also probably very red and probably starting to swell.
I refuse to answer, turning my cheek away from him. His eyes drop from my face to my half naked state and he blushes, snapping his gaze away. “Didn’t mean to stare at your tits,” he apologizes. I laugh a little at how unexpected of a situation this is. “Can I grab you a shirt?”
I sigh, I’m going to have to give a little. We’re already here, I might as well accept his help so I don’t have to spend the next few hours stuck here until everyone in the house falls asleep. “I have one.” I point at the wretched piece of fabric on the floor in front of me. “I just can’t get it on,” I admit.
His brows furrow as his eyes roam over me again, this time noting the way my arm is clutched to my chest. His gaze travels up my arm to the odd angle my shoulder is sitting at and he curses. “You dislocated your shoulder.”
I nod. “I had guessed.”
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to my shoulder. “I’m pre-med.”
Well I knew that, but can’t tell him that I knew that, so I just nod. He starts to gently prod around the area, murmuring to himself as he takes a look. “I’m the farthest thing from a doctor, but it’s only a subluxation.” Noting my confusion he pauses to clarify, “A partial dislocation. We could theoretically pop it back into place.” He trails off, refusing to meet my eyes. “But it would be better to take you to a hospital. I can get my physician here for you if that’s more comfortable for you?”
I scoff. It’s sweet he thinks it could be that easy. “This house is full of people just waiting to strike out at Carson or myself,” I remind him. “Everything you’re suggesting allows for far too many questions to be asked.”
“Why protect him? He’s a piece of shit to treat you like this, Brielle. I disliked him before, but I fucking hate him now. He hurt you on Halloween too, didn’t he? Fuck, Bri. How long has this been going on?”
I sigh. It’s so strange, only moments ago I was lamenting how Shelby was the only person I have. Yet here I am, finding comfort in another unexpected person. “You know how our world is. It would only be worse for me if this all got out.”
He shakes his head and I know he won’t be as easy to convince as Shelby with half truths. He knows too much. “Your parents would never allow this. I’m not buying it, Montgomery.”
I snort, using my good hand to pat him on his knee. “It’s complicated but it’s worth it. I’m not the only one who took a hit today.” I smirk, still happy at the turn of events even if it landed me here, in pain once again.
