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I should have fucking been there.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, guilt lashes at my insides.
I played this wrong. So fucking wrong.
I knew he was struggling, and I just fucking left.
“I won’t be long. I’m driving into the Creek now.”
“We’ll be waiting.”
I nod, despite the fact he can’t see me.
Silence falls between us and nothing but the crackle of the connected line fills my car.
“Where are Alana and Mav, Reid?” Ez asks.
Releasing my vise grip on the wheel, I slam my palm against it. The force of the hit makes it jerk to the left and the entire car follows, sending me into the other lane.
I barely react to the blaring horn that comes from behind me as I almost take his bumper off.
“FUCK,” I bellow, my voice echoing around my car.
“What have you done?”
“Don’t. Just fucking don’t,” I mutter. “Go and sit with JD and tell him I’m coming.”
Ez blows out a pained breath. I feel the weight of it right to the depths of my black soul.
“Yeah, you got it. See you soon.”
I hang up without another word. What else is there to fucking say.
Everything is falling apart around me.
All I need now is Victor to piss all over my plans and come for me and everything J and I have been working on for the past… too fucking long will be for nothing.
By the time I pull through the hidden gates that allow me entry to my property, the sun is high in the sky, casting one side of my home in an ominous dark shadow.
Swallowing down the giant lump of emotion that’s clogging my throat at the thought of my best friend suffering in my absence, I pull up next to my brother’s car and climb out.
As much as I’d like to sit out here pretending that all is right in my world, one of the most important people in it is inside my house suffering, may even be fighting for his life.
The front door crashes back against the wall as I burst inside and make a beeline toward the stairs, my backpack landing on the hardwood floor with a thud.
I take the stairs three at a time in my need to get to my best friend—my brother—and I crash through the door with my head spinning and my hands trembling.
I’m vaguely aware of both Doc and Ez in the room, but my eyes lock on the pale face that’s lying in the middle of a very neat and un-JD-like bed.
“J,” I breathe, rushing to his side and gently lowering my ass to the bed.
The arm closest to me has a cannula in it that’s hooked up to a bag of blood hanging on a hook next to the bed. The other is resting on top of the sheets, his forearm covered with a fresh bandage, another cannula disappearing under his skin. Almost every inch of his exposed skin is stained red with dried blood.
Acid swirls in my stomach and burns up my throat as I take it all in.
“I’m so fucking sorry, man,” I say softly, speaking solely to him.
I’ve no idea if he can hear me or not, but I need to fucking say it.
