Page 89 of Alpha & Omega

“He’s at work.”

“He… got a job… already?” He hadn’t told me.

“Yes, Harley recently hired him as a server at his restaurant.”

“I should call him ‘Harley, my Hero.’” I only sounded angry and sarcastic from the pain. Truly, I was forever grateful to Harley.

“He’s a good man.”

“I know.”

Cueball inspected my leg closely. “Shit, you’re bleeding through your bandages. I need to take you to the ER.”

“You don’t… even have a… car,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I have Harley’s car. He lends it to any of us who are watching over you in case of emergencies like this.”

The saint strikes again, making me feel more and more like an ass.

“No, I’ll be fine. I can’t go back there. I can’t go through this again.”

“You have to go back. I can’t take care of this. If you’re bleeding, they need to stitch you back up.”

“Fuck!”

“Yell if you need to. But we’re going.”

Going to the hospital was one thing. Getting into a car was quite another. I could feel the panic rise and the bile burn in my gut. Flashes of my accident hit me as soon as I sat in the passenger seat. The only thing that kept me from fully freaking out was the excruciating pain.

I’d ridden with Harley earlier today, but I’d had a couple of pain pills that dulled the fear, though it’d still been there.

“Scared?” Cueball asked intuitively.

I just nodded.

“It’s going to take a while to get through the fear, but you will again.”

“If you say so.”

I shut my eyes and held on for dear life as Cueball drove me to the ER.

I rested in a hospital bed, waiting for a nurse or doctor to clean my wound and stitch me back up again after I had scans to check for other injuries, which came back fine.

Cueball sat in a chair next to me, scrolling through his phone.

“Why were you at my place?”

He just shrugged without looking at me. “I volunteered since everyone else was working tonight, being a Friday and all.”

I rubbed my face and growled at myself. “I’m so fucking tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

He sighed and put his phone away. “I’ve been watching you for about a year now, admiring your willingness to take care of others and asking for nothing in return. You’re selfless and empathetic. You’re a good man, and I respect you. I realize this is a massive blow, and you’re struggling, but you won’t give up. It’s not in your nature. You’re the type who falls, dusts himself off, and tries again.”

“Oh, know me so well, do you?”

“I do,” he said flatly. “I don’t need to know you personally to realize what kind of man you are.”

I said nothing because I didn’t want to pick myself up again. The mental exhaustion was visceral and soul-sucking.

---