Page 56 of Street of Dreams
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You’ve got plenty of choices.”
“No. You got choices. This is it for me. I’m stuck here.”
“So . . .” Mac’s eyes darted back and forth, frantically searching for a solution. “We’ll be more careful. Lay low for a while.”
“You don’t understand. He’ll kill you!”
“No. No! I’m not leaving you, Jake. I don’t give a shit what your father thinks. I told you. I’m not afraid of him. I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”
“Look at my face! Look what he did to me! This was a warning! He’ll kill you! If he finds out we’re together, he’ll kill you! I’m riskingyourlife by being here right now!”
Mac shook his head. “I don’t care.”
Jake growled and ran his fingers through his hair. He was desperate to make Mac understand that this was a critical situation and that Bruce wasn’t fucking around. “I don’t want this anymore.” The words cut him, but he said them anyway. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mac huffed. “I know you don’t mean that.”
“Yeah. I do.” Jake tried to sound adamant, but he was dying inside and his words waivered. “This is too much fucking trouble. You’re too much fucking trouble. I don’t need this shit. I was fine before I met you. Now look at me.” He fell back on the only thing he knew – his crass, arrogant, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. It was his only recourse. Except, there were tears running down his cheeks.
Mac narrowed his eyes, angered by the nasty remarks. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not.” A new wave of hot, salty tears ran down Jake’s face, into his mouth and dripped off his jaw. “Stay the fuck away from me!”
Mac took a step forward and tried to put his arms around Jake, but Jake shoved him. Hard.
Surprised, Mac flinched.
“Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Stay the fuck away!” Jake turned and ran down the path, ignoring Mac’s pleading calls. His ribs screamed and his chest hurt, but he didn’t stop until he reached his pickup. Openly sobbing, he started the engine and threw the truck into gear. He slammed on the gas and the tires spun and screeched as he pulled into traffic.
The heavy sobs wreaked havoc on his bruised lungs and ribs, and he could barely see from the onslaught of tears. He pressed the gas pedal harder, eager to get as far away from Mac as fast as he could, otherwise, he’d fall into the man’s arms again.
Pain consumed him like a cancer and tore him to pieces. Never had he felt so fucking horrendous for the way he spoke to Mac. His words were vile and probably hurt him more than they hurt Mac. He knew Mac didn’t believe him, but he’d never forgive himself for the way he spoke to the only man he ever loved. The only man who ever loved him.
Tears blurred his vision and turned everything into a distorted version of reality. He took a turn too fast and the rear tire hit the curb. He overcorrected, sending the car into a tailspin. Lights blared back at him in a blur of white and pale yellow while everything around him spun in a circle, until the car slammed into something with a loud boom. The airbag deployed and punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
A hazy fog of confusion filled Jake’s head. Beeping in the background annoyed him with its persistent high-pitched wail. Voices carried on conversations around him, but not to him. Nurses walked back and forth. Some carried clipboards while others pushed carts full of medication. All were oblivious that he was there.Washe there? Or was he somewhere else watching from a distance, through eyes that no one saw? Perhaps he was dreaming. Or in a coma. Or, better yet, dead.
His entire body ached with a dull throb. He tried to sit up, but something stabbed him in the ribs. His sinuses felt like they were about to explode, and pain shot through his wrist. He was dizzy and lightheaded. The room was too bright. His throat was a scratchy, hoarse ball of fire. He was so weak he could barely lift his head.
He pressed his memory for what happened to him, and it all came back to him in one full, overwhelming wave. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes and fell into his hairline, leaving a wet trail of agony like streaks of blood over his face.
A hand touched his arm and a soft voice whispered, “Do you need more pain medication?”
His vision cleared and he focused on a woman standing over him in light blue scrubs.
“You’re in the hospital,” she said. “You’ve been in an accident. Don’t try to move. You have a broken wrist, and they had to reset your nose.” She patted his arm soothingly. “I’ll get the doctor.”
He must have dozed off, because a woman in a white coat was standing next to his bed the next time he opened his eyes.
“You’re awake,” she said, cheerfully.
“How long was I out?”
“About thirty-six hours.” She opened the file in her hands and read his chart. “Given the extent of your previous injuries, we thought it best if we kept you sedated for the pain.” She closed the manila folder and pressed it to her chest. “What were you thinking, driving in your condition? What was so important that had you behind the wheel at one o’clock in the morning?”
Mac. The most important person in his life, besides his brothers. “I gotta get out of here.” He tried to sit up again, but his head swirled, and he fell back onto the pillow.
