Page 42 of Devil's Kiss

Steeling his initial reaction to freak out, Jordan turned onto the main road and sped down the street like a racecar driver. “You keep talking to me, got it? Don’t you dare hang up. I’m maybe five…six minutes from you.”

More coughing, and Jordan wondered for a second if he should call an ambulance. “Derek? Do you need an?—”

“No.” The word was brutal and harsh, then in the silence of his car Jordan heard Derek’s raspy, broken whisper. “Just you.”

He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and nodded. “You got me. Three minutes.”

Jordan zoomed past the strip of convenience stores, and when he got to the turnoff he needed he barely slowed. He entered the lot, and his eyes scanned the area as he drove down the side of the gym to the back—and that was where he spotted him.

Derek was slumped against the brick wall beside the dumpster, and the sight just about broke Jordan’s heart. After putting the car in park, he jumped out and ran to Derek’s side, where Jordan went to his knees and raised his hands, which were now shaking like a motherfucker.

Jesus Christ.Derek’s face was hard to look at. The skin on his cheekbone was split open, blood was oozing from it, and the left eye reminded Jordan of that first day in class. It was swollen and angry, and the actual eye wasn’t even visible. Just the lid, which was triple the size of the right. The left side of his lip was bloodied and split also, and Jordan didn’t know what to do first.

“Derek… I think I need to?—”

“No,” Derek grunted, and then leaned to the side to spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. “No hospitals.”

Jordan touched a tentative hand to Derek’s arm. “Something might be broken.”

“It’s not,” Derek argued, and then let out a labored breath. “He knows better.”

“Your father?”

Derek nodded. His arm was wound tightly around his waist, and his long legs were pulled into his body as he leaned his shoulder against the bricks.

“Still, we should get you checked?—”

“No. You do that and I have to give an address.Youraddress.”

“Derek, I don’t?—”

With a monumental effort, Derek pushed off the wall and reached for his shirt with a bloodstained hand. As Derek’s fingers curled into his shirt, Jordan kept his eyes on the damaged face staring up at him.

“No.”

Finally giving in to an urge he’d had since they’d met, Jordan stroked his fingers down the unaffected side of Derek’s face and heard him whisper, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Derek. You called and I?—”

“Answered.”

Understanding dawned, and Jordan leaned forward and promised something then that would forever change their lives. “Always.”

Derek took in a shuddering breath and Jordan looked around them. “Do you think you can get to your feet? Or do I need to go and get help from inside? I’m not sure if you realize this, but you kind of outweigh me.”

When Derek’s lips parted on a warped angle to smile, he winced and Jordan apologized. “Shh. Don’t talkorlaugh.”

“Bossy.”

“Mhmm, and you are in no position to argue. Think you can get to your feet?”

Derek nodded and Jordan maneuvered himself so he was on his right side. It was clear from looking at Derek that when he’d taken the initial hit, and likely fallen, it had been on his right side, because while it still seemed tender, his left had taken the full brunt of the attack.

Once Jordan got Derek to the car, he ran around to the driver’s side and buckled in. When he raised his head, he noticed Derek’s right eye falling shut, and instructed, “Donotfall asleep.”

“But I’m so tired.”

“No falling asleep, or I’m taking your ass to the hospital.”