Page 391 of Vicious Saint
A golf ball sized knot rises in my throat as I sit up. “What did he say?”
“Eh, nothing for your fine ass to worry about.”
“Saint…”
“Jimi…”
“What’s the damage?”
Unlike me five nights ago, Saint was rushed to Thornvale to get his arm examined, which resulted in emergency surgery to repair his broken shoulder. The fear of him never being able to play football again has been eating away at me like a cancer ever since.
“Too soon to tell if there will be nerve damage, gotta wait for the swelling to go down.”
“Does he think you’ll be able to play again?”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because playing football is the last thing on my mind right now, Hendrix. I’ll worry about that after I know you’re okay.”
The genuineness in his statement does nothing to ease the guilt of Saint practicallyaskinga psychopath to hammer his throwing arm in an attempt to save me.
“Iamokay, though.”
He shrugs. “Not as long as there’s still a bruise on your body.”
Exhaling a defeated breath, I switch the subject…kinda.
“How have you been feeling since…you know…”
“Since I bashed in a piece of shit’s skull and shot three guys in the head?”
“That’s the one.”
“Like I wish I could do it on repeat. You?”
Hiding all remnants of the doubt from earlier, I echo, “Like I wish I could do it on repeat…”
A smile tugs at Saint’s lips, but with a hint of dejection, making me wonder if, like me, he’s over playing nonchalance to hide his true feelings about what he did.
Worry tightens my chest, knowing the only thing that would kill me more than Saint not being able to play football, is him reassociating himself with a monster.
“I hope what you did that night hasn’t altered your perception of—”
“Reality?” Saint cuts in with another joke, proving more and more that my suspicions may be right.
“Ofyourself.”
After adjusting his sling, he says, “To be honest, Jimi, it hasn’t. If anything…I can see myself clearer now.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His eyes slide to mine. “I can’t explain it, but something inside me changed right before I attacked Boris. And as much as I expected it to…what I was doing to him didn’t run on Vicious’ compulsion. Only my instinct to protect you.”
“I could see that...”
“See what?”
