Page 122 of Ugly Truths
With Natalie’s help, we hoist Jeff's limp body. He moans—a sound that tears at my heart. The arm wrapped around his back is warm and wet, and blood trickles a path under us, webbing out over the sidewalk.Cillian’s focus shifts between us and the empty roads with a predatory focus.
I’m not even sure how we manage it, but we get Jeff into the SUV. I climb in behind him, bracketing my knees around his hips for the best leverage to apply pressure. Cillian slams the doors shut, and within seconds, he’s in the driver’s seat with Natalie next to him, peeling out of our spot and back onto the streets.
I press my hands firmly against Jeff’s back, concentrating on the wound near his chest and trying to cover the others, but two are near his lower back, and the other is in his shoulder. Each bump in the road sends a new ripple of fear through me, but I hold steady.
Natalie reaches back to help as she frantically gives Cillian GPS directions to the nearest hospital. Despite the clear roads, we're still fifteen minutes away from the nearest ER.
Cillian curses and slams his hand against the steering wheel, leaving streaks of blood, before hitting the accelerator harder.
Tears blur my vision. Jeff's face contorts with pain against the cold leather of the seat. His eyes open only when jolted by Cillian's frantic maneuvers through the streets. My hands, warm and sticky, press down desperately. I close my eyes and suddenly Drew is behind my eyelids—her pale face, her already cool blood between my fingers, my own screams echoing in our empty living room.
I blink. The boundaries of reality and my nightmares blur so much that I can’t even see straight. The SUV’s tires screech as Cillian takes another sharp turn. Jeff groans. It’s the only thing that anchors me back to the present.
“Why would you do that?” I hiss, voice trembling. “How could you be so fucking stupid?” The anger spills out, cracking on the last word.
Somehow, this makes Jeff laugh. It’s a gurgled, harsh sound that's more of a choke. “I told you… I always got you,” he manages to say between strained wheezes.
Something inside me begs to break. Jeff has been there, right from the day I walked into his gym. He accepted me as Scarlett. As Elena. Aswhoever I needed to be at any moment. There were never any pretenses. He took me in, hid me, healed me. He is family. Myonlyfamily.
And his life is literally slipping through my fingers.
I shift closer to his face. “You better not fucking die,” I rasp. “We said no more hero stunts. That included you.”
He responds with a weak smile, teeth stained red.
No, no, no.
The tears well up again, but I fight them. Crying now won't help. Jeff doesn't need to see it, either.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force my breathing to steady, even if I can’t find the words to reassure him with much of anything.
“Lauren’ll… never date again,” Jeff suddenly mumbles, each breath getting wetter and wetter. “You need to find… a nice guy to change… her mind. No one… better looking than me… though, okay?”
“Shut up,” I snap just as soon as he finishes the last word. “You’re going to tell your wife that yourself, so she can kick your ass for saying it.” His laughter, weak and pained, follows my outburst, and more blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
Then, softer, gentler, he says, “I’m proud of you… you know.” His words cut through me, tearing open the well of emotions I've kept dammed up for five years.
I can’t do this again.
I can’t survive this twice.
The next several minutes are spent with Natalie dangling over the center console, her hands pressed on the wounds near my legs that I can’t reach. We both take turns telling Jeff to open his eyes, but each time, there’s more silence, and his jokes lose all their muster.
Cillian cut down some of our time, but we’re still four minutes out when Jeff speaks again, voice cracking, “Don't take me to… Insight. I don’t… want her… see me like this.”
Lauren’s hospital.
Dread douses me. The certainty in his strained words tells me nothing I do will help.
Nothingat all.
I abandon my pressure on his wounds as Natalie crawls to replace my hands, and I drop into the cramped foot space near his head. There’s no stopping the sob that rips through my throat when our eyes meet.
“You aren’t allowed to go. You need to stay.” I place a blood-stained hand on his shaved head, his skin far too cold and slick with sweat. “What about Lauren? What am I supposed to tell her?”
Jeff slowly reaches for my forearm, giving it a weak, reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he soothes, his eyes watery, lips coated with a thin sheen of blood as they shiver. “Elena... it’s going to… okay.”
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I lean my forehead against the side of his. “It’s not.” My voice breaks. “Please, J. Don’t.”
