Page 43 of If You Never Come Back
“Shay, I—”
“Stop,” I bark. “I don’t know why you even came back.”
I spin around and jog ahead, hoping the slickness of the sidewalks discourages him from following. I pick up speed, ignoring the burn in my legs, ignoring the rational part of my brain that’s telling me to slow down, that it’s too damn icy for me to be running in my knock-off Ugg boots.
But I shove aside that voice, letting my legs lead the way. Wes didn’t come back to make things right with me. He came back to clear his conscience.
I run and run and run until my lungs are on fire, my hair and face dripping with icy rain. And then I lose my footing on a slick spot. My feet fly out from under me the second I lose my balance. I hit the pavement back-first. All I see are stars.
Chapter Fifteen
Two sets of hands gently grip both of my arms, hauling me up to my feet. I blink until the stars turn to actual images. Remy stands to my right and Wes stands to my left. They steady me, then hit me with dual concerned stares.
“I told you to stop,” Wes says once I’m back on my feet.
“And I told you to go away,” I snap.
Remy shushes us both. “Can you two save your lovers’ quarrel until we can figure out if Shay is okay?”
“I’m fine,” I bark.
But just as I speak the words, pain shoots through my left ankle and my left wrist. When I try to put my weight on my left leg, I nearly fall, but Remy and Wes hold me in place. I grip Wes’s coat sleeve with my left hand, wincing at the pressure in my wrist.
“Easy,” Wes says.
I wince through gritted teeth. “I think it’s my ankle. And wrist.”
He and Remy exchange concerned frowns, then Remy pulls up the rideshare app on his phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting you home.”
“Remy, I live a mile in the other direction. I don’t need a car to take me.”
“You can barely walk, Shay. No way you’re walking a mile in your state.”
“I can carry her.”
Remy and I both whip our heads to Wes. “What?” we say in unison.
“I’ll carry her to her apartment,” Wes repeats.
“No way,” I say.
Remy shakes his head. “Do you see how slick the concrete is? That’s just what we need, you slipping on ice so you fall down and injure yourself and Shay.”
Wes mutters something, but it’s so low in volume I can’t understand it. Soon, a car pulls up and the three of us get in. We share a silent two-minute ride together until we halt at the front of my building.
Remy leads me to the front door but Wes stops him. “I can make sure she gets up there okay. You still need to lock up the bar, don’t you?”
The conflict plays out on Remy’s face, clear enough for me and Wes to see. Stay here and be the honorable cousin taking care of me but risk getting his unlocked bar robbed.
I huff out a frustrated breath at the thought of Wes setting foot in my apartment. The last time he was there marked the end for us.
But he’s right. I’m going to need help making it up the stairs.
“It’s okay, Remy,” I say.
