Page 19 of Hyde

“I just did,” I answer him, with a shrug of my shoulder. There’s no way on Earth that I’ll ever admit that the smell of him brought back a flood of memories. “Where are we going?”

“Yanceyville.” The single word means absolutely nothing to me, so I wait for him to add on to it. Then I wave my hand in frustration and he finally continues. “Still so impatient.”

“I doubt I’m not the only one who’s never heard of the booming metropolis of Yanceyville.”

“Bite your tongue, booming metropolis. The locals would probably burn down any chain store that tried to open there. We can hole up for a while at Alex’s place,” he finally answers me before sliding on his bike.

We’re pulling out of the gas station before I realize he’s talking about Silver’s niece. It’s been years since I’ve seen her and my nostrils flare at the thought of the beautiful woman, about ten years my senior who’s apparently still in touch with Joe.

During the ride, I enjoy the guilty pleasure of riding without a helmet on. Most of the time, I simply rest my cheek against Joe’s back—happy to be plastered against him.

Pulling up to a completely overgrown driveway, he flips his mask up and tells me a code to punch in on the pad near the gate. When I hear the lock release, I push it open far enough for him to get through before securing it behind us and climbing back on the bike for the short trip up to the cabin.

“How did you know where to find me?” I ask him the question that started bothering me about a half an hour ago.

“Flint asked me to pick you up, since I was in the area,” he answers. Pulling his helmet off he looks paler than I’ve ever seen him, and I don’t miss how he keeps his arm tucked against his side. “Come on.”

Joe braces himself on the railing as he reaches up to the overhang and feels around until he clicks his tongue and wiggles a key at me. I take it from him and proceed to open the door to see what we’re dealing with here.

“Woah!” I exclaim, sliding my bag off as I spin, looking around the main room. I’m impressed by the surprisingly modern interior in comparison to the dilapidated exterior.

“Yeah, there was, well, a problem here a couple years ago, so Alex had it gutted. She keeps swearing she’s gonna sell the place, but I doubt she will.” His familiarity with Alex is feeding this little green demon that seems to have taken up residence inside of me.

I look back to see him grasping the doorframe, and I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping him on his feet right now.

“Let me take a look at your wound,” I demand, taking a step toward him, trying to figure out how to support him without causing him more pain.

Naturally, he waves me off, walking over to sit on the coffee table. Shrugging his cut off of his shoulders, Joe gingerly starts to pull his T-shirt off, but the dried blood is holding it in place.

“Stop,” I instruct him, striding directly to the kitchen sink and looking in the cupboard below it.

Just like at the cabin in Idaho, there’s a medium sized First Aid bag stowed underneath, and I tug that out.

Turning to kneel in front of Joe, I open the kit and dig around until I find a pair of scissors and quickly slice his shirt open from the hem to the collar.

“That was my favorite shirt,” he deadpans, as I’m digging for a pair of gloves to put on. It belatedly occurs to me that I need to wash my hands first, so I double back to the sink.

While I know there are more important matters at hand, all I can think is that he isn’t wearing the necklace I gave him. Somehow, I’ve always pictured him with it on and just hope he didn’t toss it along the way.

“So, you were close by?” I ask him and he tilts his head before lifting one shoulder instead of answering me, pulling the gloves on as I walk back to him. “This is going to sting.”

That’s his only warning before I start dabbing at the deep furrow with an alcohol-soaked cloth. The catch of his breath is the only acknowledgement he gives of any discomfort, but mostly he stays still, studying my face.

“Do you and Alex spend much time here?” Knowing my attempt to keep my voice neutral utterly failed when he lets out a chuckle, I mentally berate myself.

“Yeah, I’ve joined her and her Ol’ Man to do some hunting here a few times,” he answers, effectively squashing my jealousy with that last little tidbit. I look up at him, raising an eyebrow in his direction even though I know he’ll be smirking at me. “She told me you’re every bit as smart as Riley and finished up high school early.”

“Did she also mention that I lack Mom’s ambition?” I respond, dismissing my surprise that she kept track of my accomplishment—especially since I didn’t know she had an Ol’ Man now.

“I doubt that,” he shakes his head at me. “Especially since Danny mentioned how intricate your carvings are at your dad’s business. And Marc said you’re going to start working for his mom.”

“Sounds like you talk to a lot of people,” I say, pressing clean gauze against the wound, needing the pressure to stop the blood that had started to flow again. The hiss he lets out tells me that he definitely felt that. “But you couldn’t ever check in with me?”

The very moment he opens his mouth, his eyes roll back in his head, and I grab his bicep trying to steady him. Instead, he falls forward, hitting me hard enough to push me backwards as he lands half on me, half on the rug.

“Dammit, Joe,” I sigh after straightening out my legs. “Crap.”

Wiggling out from under him, I decide that I might as well secure the wound before trying to wake him up. Reaching back into the bag, I find some blood clotting powder and glue.

---