Page 14 of Loving Trent
I shake my head and roll my neck, trying to get the stiffness setting in to release. I can’t deny that the millisecond when my lips were pressed against Shawn’s wasn’t the best time of my life because it was. During that brief time, something awakened deep inside me. The same something that had thirteen-year-old me walking multiple aisles of department stores looking for the same smell that I had the pleasure of enjoying that one time I was close enough to Shawn. The exact same thing that had me riding my bike to the other side of town, past his house, in the hope that I would catch a glimpse of him. Just one glimpse is all I needed. And now I’m right back there.
Breaking that asshole’s wrist? I won’t even sit here and allow myself to question why I did that. The pain and fear I heard in Shawn’s voice is something that I never want to hear again. I might not have a leg to stand on when it comes to him. I mean, hell, it’s been fucking twelve years since I’ve seen him, and I don’t know him. But no one, and I mean no one, should ever have those sounds in their voice when speaking to or about someone they love.
Did Shawn love him? I don’t know, but if he was in a relationship with Steven, Steven should have treated him with all the respect, kindness, and love Shawn deserved. So, fuck that sick bastard. I’m not going to lie; I’m sure a grin that looks just as evil to anyone who might see as it feels on my face spreads as I watch Steven stumble through the hospital door. I’m not worried that he will be able to give anybody enough information about who attacked him. But to be safe, I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my message thread with Demon.
Me
I need a huge favor. How quickly can you hack into Cape Hospital’s cameras?
Demon
What did you do?
Me
Might have broken both wrists of some asshole that decided to put his hands on someone he shouldn’t. I’m not worried about him being able to identify me. But I’m not sure about the cameras in the southeast emergency hallway or in the patient parking lot. They might have recorded something that might help him if he is stupid enough to open his mouth.
Demon
Everything will be gone within the hour.
Me
What do I owe you?
Demon
I’ll let you know.
Grinning like a fool, I slide my phone back into my pocket and settle against the tree.
Nine
SHAWN
The sound of fists pounding on the front door pulls me from the dream of a faceless man with deep, soulful brown eyes. There is a pounding behind my eyes. But what hurts worse is my throat and lungs. Every inhale of oxygen feels like I’m trying to swallow gravel. The doctor told me it would be this way for a couple of days, but it would go away eventually. Other than that, I was given a clean bill of health and let go late last night after refusing to stay the night. It wasn’t that I hated hospitals or anything, but I wanted to get the hell away from there.
It didn’t help that Steven showed up out of the blue, trying to act like the caring boyfriend he wasn’t. Once he left my room, I went back to trying to figure out who saved me. All I can remember from last night is big, brown, beautiful, and soul-deep eyes staring up at me. I swear, right before I woke up in the back of the ambulance, I heard someone whisper in my ear and press their lips to mine. But that couldn’t be the truth. Someone might have been talking to me, trying to get me to wake up, but why would someone kiss me? Before leaving the hospital last night, I tried to see if anyone else had been brought in from the fire. But no one would give me any information.
While searching for those brown eyes, I saw Steven lying in a bed, a nurse fussing over his broken wrists. The wrists that weren’t broken when he left my room earlier. On instinct, I started toward his room to check on him, but when his eyes filled with fear, I corrected myself and left. Whatever happened to him wasn’t any of my business, and I had more important things to worry about, like my building, my tenants, and figuring out who saved me. Because someone did, I fucking know it.
“Shawn O’Dell Foster! Open this door right this second.”
My mother’s frantic voice coming from the other side of the front door lights another fire under my ass. Stepping around the bags of clothes I bought early this morning, I unlock the front door. It flies open so fast that I barely have time to step out of the way before it smacks me in my face. My mother rushes through the open door, throws her arms around my middle, and buries her face in my chest.
“Whoa. What’s wrong?” My heart is frantically beating at the thought of something being wrong with anyone in my family. The fact that I’ve only had about three hours of sleep doesn’t help my brain figure out that she is clearly upset with me. But Mom quickly remedies that.
“What’s wrong?!” Mom shrieks and smacks my back. I groan because I’m sore everywhere. “What’s wrong is that I had to find out from your employee that you were almost killed in a fire last night. Then, when I called the hospital, they refused to give me any information because, and I quote, ‘Ma’am, your son is an adult. We cannot give out any information without his consent.’ They wouldn’t even tell me if you were there.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Mom. My phone was in the apartment?—”
“You were in the apartment,” she starts crying, and I feel like the biggest asshole. Even though it hurts, I tighten my grip on her, trying to help control the way her body is shaking with each sob that is torn from her.
The hospital asked if there was anyone they could call, but I didn’t want to worry Mom. She had just gotten back from visiting Sammy. Plus, I was fine. It wasn’t like I was hurt. I meant to pick up a new phone when I was out this morning, but I completely forgot about it. Luckily, I fell asleep with my wallet in my pocket, so I didn’t have to replace my ID or bank cards.
“I’m fine,” I say, pulling her closer. Using my foot to shut the door, I pull her closer as she continues to cry. “Shhh, Mom, it’s okay. I promise I’m good. I’m just going to be sore for a little while and have a sore throat for a few days.”
Mom pulls out of my arms and starts running her hands over my face, neck, and arms. It is as if she is checking for injuries herself. Juliet Foster is short but mighty. She might only be five foot five, just like Sammy, but when she’s pissed, you would think she was six foot four like me. Her blue eyes are rimmed red, drowning in so much worry that it breaks my heart. She touches the cut on my forehead before sliding her hands down to the one from Steven. At least I can easily tell her that I got both of them trying to get out. If Sammy, Dylan, and Zak keep their mouths shut, that is.
