Page 49 of Inseparable
He nods, sprinting upstairs.
I pull a chair out in front of Devin and sit down, examining his face to see how bad the damage is. “I need to clear away the blood, Dev. This might sting.”
Luc returns to the kitchen, handing the medical box to me. I remove some cotton pads, dip them in the water, and then gently dab at his face. He grips the arms of the chair, but he makes no sound as I slowly and carefully wipe the blood and grime from his face. Bile floods my mouth. “I think you might need stitches,” I admit, eyeing the large gash at his temple. The rest of his face is like a colorful patchwork quilt of contusions and cuts.
“No hospital,” he slurs, his eyes struggling to focus on mine. Lucas starts pacing the floor.
I can’t take him to the hospital like this; he’ll probably get arrested once they confirm he was driving while drunk. Mom should be able to fix him up when she gets in. “Help me get his shirt off,” I ask Luc. “I need to check his ribs.”
Devin sucks in a sharp breath as we strip his shirt and T-shirt off as gently as we can.
“Fuck’s sake,” Lucas hisses, his eyes raking over the bruising along Dev’s left-hand side.
I shake my head, and sudden fury jumps up and bites me. “I can’t believe you drove your truck while you were so hammered! What the hell were you thinking! You could’ve killed yourself or someone else.”
“Don’t be mad, baby doll,” he slurs. “I’ll be okay.”
I extract a couple of pain pills and walk to the sink to fill a glass with water. I deliberately bite my tongue because now isn’t the time to rip him a new one. He’s still totally wasted, and I’d rather save it for morning. “Open your mouth.” I curl his hand around the glass and pop the pills in his mouth. Lifting the glass to his lips, I tip the water in. “Swallow, and do not attempt to make some sleazy remark,” I warn. The corners of Luc’s mouth curve up. “Drink the rest of the water,” I instruct, keeping the glass to Devin’s mouth as I tap out a quick text to Mom.
“Ange, would it be okay if we both stayed here?” Lucas asks with a worried frown. “Dad blew a gasket, and I’d rather not go home.”
“Sure. I know Mom won’t mind.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Don’t touch her,” Devin slurs. “No touching my girl.”
My cheeks turn pink. “Help me with him?” I ask, deliberately ignoring Dev’s statement.
Luc helps me bring him upstairs, undress him to his boxer briefs, and roll him onto the bed. I pull the covers up under his chin, turn off the main light, and switch my beside lamp on instead. I read Mom’s reply before putting my cell aside. “Sleep it off. I’ll stay here. Mom says to wake you every few hours in case you have a concussion. She’ll check on you when she gets home.”
He mumbles something incoherent and proceeds to instantly conk, light snores ripping from his mouth pretty much straightaway.
Lucas sits on the edge of the bed, while I slide under the covers beside Dev, opening my book. “Thanks for looking after him.”
“I couldn’t not do anything. Not when he’s hurt.”
“I’m really worried about him. He’s worse since he stopped hanging with you and Ayden. It’s a miracle he didn’t crash his truck before now.”
“He does this a lot?”
Lucas hangs his head. “All the time. He’s always drunk, high, or hungover.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Couldn’t you guys make up? Maybe he’ll listen to you. All he does is tell me to mind my own business when I try to talk to him.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I understand,” he says, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and a pang of sadness hits me square in the chest.
I get out of bed, and hug him. “It’ll be okay, and I’ll talk to him in the morning. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but I’ll try.”
I do my best to stay awake, but when my eyelids start drooping, I set the alarm on my phone and curl up under the covers. Devin hasn’t even budged position, and except for the rise and fall of his chest, and the intermittent snores, I would worry he wasn’t breathing. I place my hand softly on his back, noticing the faded bruising mingling with fresher ones. Tears prick my eyes as I watch the boy sleeping beside me, hating how much I still love him, but at the same time happy I do, because Devin needs someone to love him, and I’d rather it be me. Even if it’s from afar.
The irritating buzzing of my cell wakes me a few hours later. I reach my hand out, turning it off as I brush strands of my messy hair out of my face. My body’s like a furnace, and my pajama top is plastered to my back. Devin is wrapped around me like a baby koala, and my chest tightens painfully.
A light cough captures my attention, and I lift my eyes, locking on Mom’s razor-sharp gaze. She’s sitting in a chair by Devin’s side, still in her hospital uniform. “You need to wake him.”
