Page 32 of Aftermath

"You kept me alive," Austin rasped. "I was too weak."

"You—Christ, Austin. You weren’t weak." Cam pushed down his temper. "Do you even remember how bruised you were?"

Cam sure as fuck did.

Taking off the cuffs was priority number one. Then Cam had woken Austin by splashing water in his face, and Austin had been conscious long enough to croak out where it hurt the most. And, uh, well, it had taken Cam seven tries to put Austin's shoulders back in their sockets. He felt bad, but he wasn’t a fucking doctor.

Anyway, Austin had passed out from the pain, and that brought them to now. Cam was tending to the knife wounds after having stripped Austin of clothes—one pair of shredded sweatpants and one filthy T-shirt. And when he was done with Austin's face, he had to cut up both their T-shirts, 'cause there weren't enough bandages in the medical kit for both of them.

Four wounds needed stitches, so Cam was glad Austin was still passed out on the floor. Without anesthesia or even the weakest painkiller, it was bound to hurt like a bitch. But the most important thing was to close the cuts and make sure everything was as clean as possible. The alcohol he poured probably stung like hell, too.

He made sure to save some for himself, 'cause when Austin was ready, he was gonna have to dig out the bullet in Cam's shoulder.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Cam whispered, not expecting an answer. He gently swiped a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the four-inch long cut along Austin's temple, right at his hairline. Butterfly bandages should suffice there.

He noticed that Austin was coming around when he whimpered and a stray tear slid down his temple.

"You're gonna be okay."

"Hurts," Austin choked out, eyes closed.

"I know," Cam murmured thickly. "Can you tell me if anything is broken?"

"I…um. I d-don’t know…"

Cam nodded to himself and resumed his work. With Austin wearing only his black boxer briefs, Cam could see every bit of damage, and Jesus fucking Christ, there was a lot. For the wounds along the man's thighs and calves, he pressed sterile pads directly onto the cuts, and then he tore cotton strips off of the T-shirts to create bandages to tie around Austin's legs.

While Cam tended to Austin's arms, Psycho returned, but before panic could settle in, the men found out he was only down there to "fetch the dead guy." Pete. A rotting corpse. Pete, an innocent man. Whom Psycho had called Dad. Fucking lunatic.

"I need you to wake the fuck up now, Austin," Cam stated. He didn’t understand it, but seeing Austin this way was just wrong. This was the man who'd helped him when Cam was nothing but an asshole. Yeah, so he needed to wake up and be good again. "There's nothing more I can do." He surveyed Austin's body. "I cleaned up the blood, I stitched you up, I-I don’t think, um…I mean, I don’t think there's a big risk of infection. How're your fucking shoulders?"

Austin let out a quiet, pained moan, but that was about it.

"Well, at least you're breathing," Cam muttered, then winced when he accidently moved his bad shoulder. "Goddamn, I could use a drink."

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Cam tightened his hold on Austin. He shuddered. His hands slid over Austin's exposed skin, encountering too many scars. Some were fading. Some were too deep to ever go away.

In the pocket of his shorts, his phone vibrated, but he ignored it. Before Austin had woken up this morning, someone had been calling Cam's phone multiple times from an unknown number, and he didn’t respond to that shit.

"Are you with me, Austin?" Cam murmured. He hoped he wouldn’t get freaked out whenever Austin grew quiet now.

"Yeah…"

Cam let out a soft breath. "Come on. Let's go inside instead." The sun was at its highest. Even Bourbon had retreated to the shadows on the other side of the pool where he was gnawing on a bone. The high, wooden fence that surrounded the backyard provided seclusion, but unless you were in that pool, it was like a broiling pan in the middle of the day. "We'll talk and rest for a bit, and then we're ordering that pizza." He was gonna make sure Austin pulled through this.

To do that, he swallowed his aversion to his medicine and took a damn pill that made it easier to prevent anxiety attacks.

Austin wasn’t tired; he was utterly drained. It felt like he'd been crying for days and not a couple hours. His voice was hoarse and shook when he spoke. His eyes felt heavy. But Cam kept pushing. Gently. Persistently. He made sure Austin talked about what he was remembering.

"No—open your eyes." Cam kissed him between his eyebrows. "If anything, I need to hear what came next, 'cause I don’t fucking remember."

"You were pretty out of it," Austin mumbled sleepily and pulled the blanket up higher. Before, when they'd made it to bed, Cam had switched on the ceiling fan as well as a table fan that stood on the low wall behind Cam's back. So, the living room was now comfortably cool even though the sun was scorching right outside.

"Keep talking," Cam said, just a hint of irritation in his voice.

Austin's eyes remained closed, but he managed a smile. Cam wouldn’t be Cam if he didn’t get annoyed.

"Nothing much to tell," Austin lied as the memories flooded back.

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