Page 9 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)

NASH

The alley offered silence and shadows, both things I craved and desperately needed as the pain in my head increased.

I didn’t have a clue what the fucking time was, and I struggled to figure it out.

The day had crawled by, most of it was spent with Lincoln watching me while I fumbled my way through one pathetic note after another.

Only when the pain became too much to manage, pressing in on my vision, did I make myself leave.

I took the bit of money I’d made and bought painkillers along with a bottle of water.

The over-the-counter shit rarely worked, but sometimes it took just enough of the edge off.

You’re supposed to suffer, the voice reminded me.

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing the stupid voice to go to sleep. Just for a bit. I just needed a breather. Needed the silence so I could sleep.

I just wanted to sleep. To be done with the pain and throbbing. To be done with the stupid way the world weighed down on me.

Even as I lay there with my eyes closed, I felt the change around me. Awareness prickled across the back of my neck as I felt the movement in the dark.

Someone was there.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I growled, never once opening my eyes. My hand fell to my bag protectively.

No response.

I opened one eye to see a pair of wide brown eyes staring at me, frozen in fear and tearing up. Fuck. The kid had to be no more than ten or twelve, wearing clothes too big for her thin frame.

“What’re you doing out here?” I demanded. A kid that young didn’t belong creeping up on a strange man in a dark alley.

“I’m just hungry,” she whispered with a tremble in her pitiful voice. “You were sleeping, and I just thought…”

“You thought you’d try to steal my stuff,” I finished for her. Groaning, I ran a hand over my face and made myself sit up. I faltered as my stomach rolled violently from the rush of pain to my head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She shook her head quickly. That head kept shaking while she slowly backed away from me.

See that? She’s scared of you, the voice taunted, agonizingly loud in my head.

Well, no shit. I was a grown ass man in a damn near pitch black alley who’d caught her trying to steal. She was right to be afraid. If I were anyone else, she could’ve gotten herself killed.

“Do you realize,” I began gruffly while reaching into my bag, “how goddamn stupid that idea was?”

I pulled out a protein bar—one of the expensive ones that I occasionally treated myself to—and handed the unopened package to her. Leaning against the brick wall, I watched as she ripped it open and stuffed half the bar in her mouth.

“When was the last time you ate, kid?” I asked quietly. She mumbled something and shrugged. “How long have you been out here?”

“A few weeks, I think,” she mumbled through a mouthful of protein bar. Shit. No kid belonged out here that long. How had no one realized she was missing?

While I wanted to say it wasn’t my problem—that she wasn’t my problem—I wasn’t an idiot.

There were dangerous people out here willing to do whatever it took to survive and more.

It was only a matter of time before the wrong people found her and took advantage of that. I couldn’t just leave her alone.

Ah, yes, the voice chimed in, ever the hero, aren’t you? Do you think anyone cares?

Whether they cared or not, it was the right thing to do.

“Do you want a hot meal?” I asked and watched as her eyes lit up. “Come on. I know a place.”

“I don’t have money,” she said.

“I didn’t ask for any,” I told her. Taking my time, I climbed to my feet. The world spun, and I clenched my jaw tight while my stomach threatened to empty itself of what little it had.

How can you save anyone when you can’t even save yourself? the voice asked.

“You okay?” Her voice was distorted in my ears as the hot migraine fog settled in. Fuck, I hated this.

“Just give me a minute,” I bit out. “Don’t feel so good…”

Understatement of the fucking century.

She took my silence as an invitation to talk. And kept on fucking talking. Maybe it was an anxious response—a need to fill the quiet—but whatever it was, it took everything I had not to snap at her. She was irritating, but I didn’t want to scare her away, either.

Minutes of chatter rolled by while I waited for the world to settle enough for me to be functional for a few blocks. Stupid fucking migraine.

You did this to yourself, the voice reminded me.

Debatable.

“Let’s go,” I said as I tossed my bag over my shoulder along with my guitar case.

“Do you play?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I said nothing else, knowing full well that my social battery was dead. Entertaining kids held no interest for me.

This trusting little shit seemed more than fine with following a strange man wherever. More reason she needed to be off the street.

While she chatted away happily, I led her down the street. I knew a few of the cops that frequented the area, ones who wouldn’t assume that I’d kidnapped some random kid.

I’d known Officer Bellingham for years. We had a quid pro quo kind of relationship. He helped me out from time to time, and I gave him information where I could. I didn’t give a fuck who got arrested. I wasn’t out here to watch out for everyone else.

He was a little younger than me but grounded. I liked that. He also wasn’t the kind to quickly judge someone just because they were homeless. He was a rarity—the kind of guy who treated us with respect.

Respect? What did you do to deserve respect? the voice demanded, but I did my best to ignore it.

There were a few spots I could find Bellingham on any given night, depending on the time.

Since I didn’t have a watch, I was stuck walking this girl from one spot to the next under the guise of finding her a hot meal.

She had the worst locational awareness as she followed me like a yappy little puppy dog.

It worked in my favor, though, as I found him eventually.

Two cruisers were parked alongside each other in an empty lot.

I tensed when I realized I didn’t recognize the cop with him, one who could jump to conclusions about the whole situation.

Well, it was too late to turn back, and it wasn’t like I wanted to keep the kid.

Dropping an arm around her shoulder, I steered her right toward the two of them as they leaned against the hoods of their SUVs. And right on cue, the cop I didn’t know reacted.

“What the—”

“He’s good, he’s good,” Bellingham interrupted quickly. He waved a hand like that’d help. When the kid attempted to bolt, I gripped her shoulder harder to keep her there. I didn’t want to fight a kid, but I would if I had to.

“I found her stealing my shit,” I announced. “It’s not like I can leave her wandering the streets.”

“You lied!” she yelled.

“No, kid, they’ll make sure you eat,” I said. “I’m just not keeping your ass. You don’t belong out here.”

Calamity ensued as they took over, resorting to forcefully loading her in the back of one of the SUVs.

I cringed while she screamed and fought back, the sound cutting deep.

It wasn’t that I felt bad. No, she needed to go somewhere safe.

There was no denying that. The noise just damn near took me out by the knees as pain amplified in my head in response.

I took several unsteady steps to separate from the situation. To go back to hiding in the shadows until the pain went away again. However long that’d take.

“Calhoun, hold up!” Bellingham called after me. I sighed and leaned against the brick wall as I waited. When he was close, he asked, “You doing all right, man?”

“Just one of those days,” I admitted tightly. He was one of the few people who knew about my migraines.

“All right, all right,” he whispered. “Well, look. We’ve got some time right now, so why don’t you come in with me? You can use one of the empty offices like before.”

Sometimes, Bellingham’s captain let me use one of their empty offices to take a nap. It got me out of the cold and let me sleep somewhere a little safer. Not like I ever let my guard down enough to truly feel safe.

“I can get Carrie to have some water and Tylenol ready for you,” he continued. “Maybe get you a hot meal while we’re at it.”

“I’m not hungry,” I replied. Water was pushing it with the state of my stomach.

So damn fragile, the voice added in. So damn pathetic. Need to let someone else rescue you.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”