Page 48 of I Still Love You

God fucking damnit, I would trade it all.

The last half hour hits me at once, causing me to jerk forward for the trash bin. The adrenaline too much to bear, I gag once, then throw up.

“What the hell were you thinking, man?” Jett’s voice hits me when I push the door open at the side entrance and hold it open for him. He kicks off the wall and follows. “You’re lucky they didn’t haul your ass out of here. A slap on the wrist for assaulting someone on hospital grounds?” He shakes his head out of the corner of my eye.

The cops let me go after interviewing me, and someone came in to clean me up. The officers pulled up the footage from the hall camera and pinpointed the shriek that made me turn back, and Layla’s story solidified my actions. But I still assaulted a man. I drove my fist into his face and stomach without caring if he was going to breathe when I finished. I did it without thinking I would have to eventually stop if I didn’t want to kill him.

If Layla hadn’t gotten help when I told her to, I wonder if I would’ve been mentally strong enough to pull away. All I wanted was to bash his face in until it was unrecognizable, and I realize those potent emotions are coming from a place I’d rather not discuss or face on my own. I don’t know the first step to take to navigate them.

“Is Andrew pressing charges?” he questions, falling into step beside me as we head toward the sports therapy building. “Oh, and Mason is livid. He was ready to catch a plane before I told him I had you covered.”

“You have my phone then?”

“Layla gave it to me.” He pulls it out of his pocket and hands it over. “You need to call your brother and explain what happened. And you never answered me.”

“I’ll call him,” I say. I scrape my teeth against my bottom lip and add, “And yeah. I won’t know what’ll happen until my pending court date.”

There’s a crew taking down the wall partitions from the clinic as we walk, and I’m fucking glad for it. Glad about not having to see Layla next to me all day. Two days was plenty. Two days was enough to fuck with my head and have me wanting to shred a man. I wonder, had she not been stationed next to me, if today would have resulted in the same ending.

“When’s that?” Jett asks, walking the length of the field with me as we close in on the building where I work and the parking lot next to it.

“I don’t know yet, but the cop said they’re quick about cases like this. Few weeks, maybe.”

“Fuck, man, you look like shit,” he exhales, wincing when I glance over. “Did you see what you did to that guy? They took him to the E.R. You beat the living hell out of him.”

I gulp and rub my lips together because I’m ashamed. It would’ve been nice if Andrew never put Layla or me in that predicament, and I’m not saying that to place blame. I completely understand that I fucked up. That I should have kept my hands to myself beyond separating him from the woman he victimized. I won’t cower in my punishment, and I’ll stand tall in accepting it, even though there shouldn’t be justice for men like him.

Changing the direction of our conversation, I say, “Thanks for coming. I know you have your own shit you’re dealing with, but I appreciate you making time for me.”

Jett sucks air through his teeth and claps me on the shoulder before giving it a squeeze. “I’m always here for you, man. I’ll support you ‘til the end, but I’m telling you…” His voice trails off before it lowers, and he tugs me an inch closer as we walk, squeezing my neck. “You need to figure your shit out. You came back from Austin with stitches, and something tells me that was no accident. And now this? You need to find it in yourself to exercise self-control.”

I shake my head and sniff, my teeth biting into my cheeks before I say, “My brain just…”

“Turned the fuck off?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, learn how to keep it turned on. I can’t bail you out of jail. Not to mention, that shit is permanent.”

I stop and settle a stare on him. “I didn’t have her call you so you could bail me out if I had been dragged down to the station.” I’m not friends with Jett so I can reap the rewards of his social status. I’m friends with him because I genuinely like the dude. I’d never let him use his name to bail me out of a situation. “I asked her to call you because you’re the only person I trust.”

Appreciation flickers in his eyes. “I know, man, but you need to figure things out in here.” He brings a finger up, tapping his temple. “Because I don’t want to figure out a plan to help you escape from a prison cell. I can’t pull off Prison Break shit. These Jett Magic hands weren’t made to be scaling brick buildings. They’re only meant for sweet, wet pu—”

I get back to walking when he smirks at me. “I’m not going to jail.”

“That’s for the judge to decide.”

I hate how right he is. Still, I mutter, “It’s my first offense.”

He shrugs. “Better hope he or she is in a damn good mood the day of your hearing because you never know.”

I’m well aware of the realness of my consequences. Fuck, I don’t know what the typical sentence is for assault or if fines and community service are the go-to. I hate myself for having to consider it and for wondering what Regional will do. Are they going to let me go? Fucking up a coworker has to be grounds for removal.

My stomach churns with concern, but there’s something else I have to deal with before I worry about myself. “Where’s Layla? Have you seen her?”

“I stayed with her while the cops questioned her. They told her to collect her belongings and head home after.”

“Really?”

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