Page 45 of Brazen Criminals

Chapter 25

Clara

Jansenrubsmyback,and I open my eyes a sliver, though shivers still ripple through me. I force myself to take a deep breath. Jansen leans over me, and seeing that I’ve opened my eyes, he clears his throat. “Clara. I need to fix your shoulder. It might hurt, but then it’ll feel better. Will you let me help you?”

I give a tiny nod. I am barely controlling the shivers, and I don’t want them to escape while I’m in this much pain. My eyes squeeze shut as Jansen helps me lie on my back. He wraps his hands around my arm, hissing when he sees the bloody crescents left by Bryce’s nails. Starting with a steady tug, he moves my arm from my hip out to T, wiggling and shaking it as he goes, before twisting it as he jimmies it up into a Y position. He pulls it across my body, carefully palpitating the joint, making sure it’s back where it should be. No pop, no zing, but it just feels sore, not vomit-inducing, so it must be back where it should be.

Jansen coaxes my arm gently in different directions, checking my range of motion, then folds it against me so my left hand is holding onto my right shoulder, stabilizing the adjustment. He takes my right arm and wraps it around my body so I’m holding my elbow to my ribs, the pretzel shape making everything safe and secure. Stumbling to my feet with his help, I see Walker and RJ rushing down the sidewalk.

“What happened?” Walker asks, sprinting up the stairs, RJ steps behind him.

Jansen curls his hands into fists, his green eyes flashing. “That crazy fucker dislocated her shoulder. RJ, could you go get her a sling? I would, but—” He glances up at the house, and I know he’s worried about Trips.

RJ nods and jogs down the street, probably heading to the 24/7 Walgreens. Jansen wraps his arm around my back, gently tugging me to the house. “She’s in shock, I think,” he says to Walker. “She just vomited a bunch. I don’t know if it was from what happened or pain, but I imagine she needs a hot shower.”

Walker takes over, bundling me into the house while Jansen starts up the stairs.

“I’ve got her. You help Trips,” Walker says.

I find myself in the bathroom, the shower warming the room and helping my shivers to slow.

“Clara, do you think you can get in by yourself?”

I look into his dark eyes, and I shake my head. I don’t think I could have even made it to the bathroom without help right now.

He closes his eyes for a second, a quiet “Well, fuck me,” breaking through the steam, before he carefully helps me undress. First each boot, then my jeans. The steam is calming my shivers, but another shudder ripples through me as the cool air hits my legs. He clears his throat, my good hand on his shoulder as he sets my jeans aside. “Do you just want to go in with your underwear?”

I think about how awkward this must be for him. “Sure,” I mumble.

He helps me to the shower, holding my waist as I step over the edge of the tub, closing the curtain as soon as I’m steady on my feet. The hot water runs down my nose, and I watch the stream fall into the tub, swirling around my bare feet.

A forever moment later, a quaking breath clears my mind, the shivers gone. “You still here?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Walker answers. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall. Are you back with us?”

I turn around in the shower so the water hits my front, rinsing out my mouth. “I think so. Do you think I could have something hot to drink? I don’t want to be sick again, but hot cocoa sounds good.”

Walker laughs. “I’ll make you some cocoa. RJ should be back any minute with your sling, so that should be good.”

“Okay. I’ll get out and change or something.”

“Can you do that by yourself?”

I lift my elbow a bit. My shoulder is sore as fuck, but I think maybe I can do it myself. “I’ll try. If I can’t, I’ll yell.”

“Got it.”

The door clicks shut. I drag my underwear down to my knees with my good hand, jiggling my knees until they are low enough that I can step out of them. My tank top is harder. When I yank the back of it over my head, it gets stuck, and for a second, I think I’m going to drown standing up in the shower. I stumble forward out of the stream and drop my head, the shirt a tunnel that lets me see my feet. Once I get my good arm out, my head follows, then my bad arm with a hiss.

At least my bra is an easy maneuver, but by the time I’m done, I’m dizzy and panting. I warm back up under the hot water, then with a sigh, I shut it off, step out, and drape a towel over one shoulder.

I glance at myself in the mirror, and I’m basically half naked with the towel like this. I groan and stick my head into the hall to see if any of the guys are there—I’ve already had two towel encounters in the hallway. It’s getting to be a weird habit.

Seeing no one, I dart to my room. I pull on some pajama shorts and a loose tank top, but leave the towel over my shoulders to keep my wet hair from soaking me through again. No way I’ll be able to wrap it up right now. Settling into one of my pink chairs, I try to figure out what the hell happened.

Jim, one of Bryce’s friends, must have been at the party

He must have texted Bryce some picture of me dancing

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