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16
“Hold him still!”
Scotty tried, but he was helpless. A feeling he was too familiar with, one he’d never hated as much as he did then. Zander was bleeding out in the back seat of the Charger, where they’d laid him after Scotty had helped Vince carry the unconscious man over to the car.
The stench of blood filled his nostrils, immediately taking him back to a place he would rather not revisit, but he had no defense against the memories assaulting him. His mother on the floor. Dark blood framing her head like a macabre halo, the odor thick and overpowering.
Vince’s head was bowed, his forehead creased in concentration and worry as he worked to staunch the bleeding from the huge cut in Zander’s side. A cut that had bled enough to soak the car seat, its sharp scent permeating the air. Scotty didn’t know how Zander had gotten hurt but he could guess.
But he’d made it back to them, so did that mean they were safe?
Dumb question, because they weren’t.
Zander wasn’t, and Scotty couldn’t do shit to help him but stand there and shake with his hands red and sticky with Zander’s blood.
“Here.” Vince grabbed Scotty’s hands and tugged him forward. “Put pressure on it, let me get more cloth.”
His words were muffled by the sound of rushing water in Scotty’s ears, and was the trembling in his knees getting worse? Because he felt as if it was. His mouth was so dry, he’d give anything to have a bottle of water right then.
“Scotty?”
These were the moments that usually drove him out onto the streets in search of something strong to numb the pain and dim the memories. He’d curl up somewhere dark and wait it out. The episodes never lasted long, but fuck, they laid him flat every time.
The sound of his mother’s head hitting the edge of the counter.
The pool of blood under her head slowly getting bigger and bigger.
And the coppery smell.
Fresh and so sharp, he tasted it at the back of his throat.
That scent had remained in his nostrils for months afterward.
“Scotty!”
He flinched, lashes fluttering wildly. “Wh-what?”
Vince got up from his crouch and grabbed Scotty’s chin. His hands were wet.
With blood.
They shook, too, though not as badly as Scotty’s. “I need you here with me,” Vince told him softly. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for you to melt down.” He pursed his lips and glanced down at Zander. “He needs us.”
Zander looked so vulnerable. Scotty hadn’t thought he’d ever witness Zander in that state, but there the mechanic was, out cold, helpless to protect himself. That job now fell to Vince and Scotty, and he—He couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry.” The tears welled up in his eyes unbidden. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to disappoint Vince. Didn’t want to disappoint Zander. But the blood… With every inhale, his heart thumped harder and harder, louder and louder.
And he sweated. His armpits were damp, his hairline too.
“Hey, just stay with me. Okay?” Vince peered into his eyes, wiping Scotty’s cheek with a thumb. “Stay with me. I need you.”
He’d never been needed before. The enormity of it hitched his breath, but Scotty wanted to be worthy of that kind of trust. He wanted to be someone not ruled by their demons, not too afraid to push past them. He nodded shakily, inhaling. “Okay.”
After one last look, Vince jerked his head in Zander’s direction. “It’s just the three of us. I don’t know who we can trust. I don’t know what’s waiting for us out there, but we can’t stay in this parking garage forever. The sun will come up in a few hours and we can’t be here.” He dropped his hand from Scotty’s face, expression grave. “He’s bad,” he murmured, almost as if he couldn’t bear to speak the words. “And I don’t know what the fuck to do.” He blew out a breath. “Come, put pressure on the wound.’’
Clearly, Vince was afraid and unsure, but he wasn’t allowing it to freeze him up. The least Scotty could do was follow the other man’s lead. So he crawled back into the car through the front driver’s side and crouched between the two front seats, leaning into the back and doing as Vince instructed, pressing down on Zander’s wound.
Zander flinched, head tossing back and forth. Both of the car’s back doors were open, his head hanging out one side, his legs the other. His skin was ashen, lashes moving though his eyes didn’t open.
