Page 37 of The Games We Play
My head feels like it’s about to explode.
I head home and take a much-needed shower. Hygiene takes a back seat when I go on a long ride. I remember what the therapist from the clinic said, two days after the bombing in Kabul. Think of your basic needs and fulfill them, one after another. Now I’m clean. I don’t smell of dust and dirt and blood. I throw three eggs in the skillet and make some toast before eating the lot at record speed to deal with my hunger.
I toss down a large glass of water and chase it with an equally large glass of tequila.
Then I sit down in my chair, figuring I’ll wait an hour before I go check her house again.
But instead, I close my eyes, and night creeps up on me.
12
IRIS
Isink into my bedding and sigh. It’s finally quiet.
Kasey had taken me to the ER, and after a long and painful wait, an x-ray showed a mild fracture in my left wrist. I’m not sure what the difference is between a mild fracture and a not-mild one. Surely they both mean cracked bones. Either way, I ended up with a co-pay that will hit my savings and a rigid wrist brace with a bar to stop my wrist from bending. And I’ve never been more relieved to have basic healthcare coverage.
On the way to my house, we grabbed takeout. I ate the burger messily in the passenger seat of Kasey’s car. When I got home, she insisted on helping with every goddamn thing until I told her, lovingly, that I could get myself into pajamas.
They gave me some of the good drugs while I was in the hospital, but the painkillers are starting to wear off, and the ache and agony of being spun by a truck are starting to weave their way through my bones.
I turn off the light and try to sleep. But my mind races. And the loudest voice is the one telling me to warn Spark that Cillian has his sights set on the Outlaws. I feel more loyalty to a man I’ve known for five minutes than I do to the uncle I’ve known my entire life.
I hope he’s safe. He chased the person who crashed into me, but I haven’t seen him since. In hindsight, I wish he’d never left me.
My body aches as I turn over to get comfortable. Muscle spasms hurt my back, my ribs ache, and something in my brace is itchy as all heck.
I try for what feels like hours to calm my mind and ease into sleep, but everything fails, and I feel utterly miserable.
I reach for the lamp and turn it on, the light casting a warm glow over the bedroom. It’s a little after two. Now that I’m awake, I still don’t know what to do. Maybe read. Scroll mindlessly through my phone. Stare at the ceiling and wonder how big that damp patch in the corner is going to get before my landlord believes me when I say there’s a leak in the attic.
In the quiet, I hear the snick of the back door closing, and I hold my breath. Staring in the direction of the door, I listen. But there is no further noise I can discern. It’s times like this that make me wish I had a dog. One that would bark when someone entered the house.
I let out the breath I’m holding and reach for my phone, only to scream and drop it when my bedroom door pushes open.
Out of the shadows emerges a large figure, and I relax when I realize I know him.
“Did you just break into my house?” I ask.
Spark ignores the question and kneels next to the bed. First, he places my phone back on the bedside table, and then he places his cool fingers to my forehead.
I bat his hand away.
“Spark. Why are you in my house?”
Concern etches his features. “You don’t have a fever, so that’s good. Why did you turn your light on?”
“I can’t sleep. Too uncomfortable. But now, you need to answer me.”
“Yes, I broke into your house. I saw the light go on, knew Kasey wasn’t here, and was worried you might need help.”
Processing what he’s saying is a lot. “I can’t even ... Spark. You can’t just break into my house.”
He tilts his head and raises his eyebrow. “I think we just proved I can.”
I huff. “Technically, with a certain set of skills, I’m sure you can break into anywhere. But that doesn’t mean you should.”
“If I think you need help and there’s nobody here to help you, I’m breaking into your house. Now where hurts?”
