Page 9 of Up In Smoke
I’m so useless, I can’t even end myself properly. There’s a chance I’ll be glad of that later. Right now, though, it just seems like I’m adding insult to injury. A laugh bubbles out of me despite the pain in my side. What if my one true talent is failing at absolutely fucking everything?
No wonder my folks pretend like I don’t exist. I bet they’d have been relieved if I’d never woken up this morning. Adam would probably have been sad, but?—
Oh…no. Adam.
I peer blearily through my crunchy eyelashes, looking for my phone, half a memory surfacing of a rambling voice mail. I called him, didn’t I? Fuck. Is that him at the door? That would make sense.
Except…it wouldn’t. He moved. Far away. I never see him anymore. That’s most likely a blessing for him, but I do miss having my big brother around. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend these days. How pathetic is that?
The banging stops and I exhale in relief.
Only for a second, though. Because then I hear a terrible splintering sound.
“Jesse?” someone yells frantically.
From inside the apartment.
I wince. They’ve broken in. Well, good luck robbing me, there isn’t anything worth anything. I checked. But why would a burglar know my name? And it isn’t my landlord. He hassome kind of Eastern European accent, and this guy is definitely American.
“I told you to fuck off,” I mumble with as much indignation as I can muster. But all that does is tell my intruder where I am.
“Jesse? Oh, shit!” Feet come running into view and someone crouches down, grabbing my shoulder and gently cradling my face despite the sick smeared all over it.
It’s typical that I’ve never looked worse in my whole life and this stranger is one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. My poor stomach has nothing left to give, but it still swoops as beautiful brown eyes peer down at me in concern.
“Are you an angel?” I utter, wondering if I actually did finish the job and this perfect vision of a man is here to escort me to the afterlife. I doubt I’d be going to heaven, but that seems like the most plausible explanation for him being here at this point. He’s clearly divine.
“Fucking hell, Jesse,” the angel mutters with a grimace. “You’ve really done it this time. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“NO!” I cry, jerking up and grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt, getting slime on it. But that also angers my ribs, and I double over, using one hand to hold myself as well as my intruder. “No ambulance,” I implore him.
“You need help,” the angel says, frowning, but I shake my head, even though that makes me feel worse.
“’Mfine. No insurance.” I don’t need an X-ray to know I’ve had the snot kicked out of me. There’s nothing they could do for cracked ribs anyway, so I’m not getting thousands of dollars into debt only to be told to rest up. “No ambulance. Water.”
The angel doesn’t look happy, but he isn’t getting his phone out, either. “Okay. I’ll hold off for now. But will you let me clean you up?”
As much as I want the angel to stay, this is weird. “Go away. Don’t need…’m fine. No help.”
The angel really scowls now. I don’t like it. He should leave. “You’re not fine, Jesse.”
A thought manages to cut through my brain fog. “How’d you know m’ name?”
He blinks at me, and it’s possible a look of hurt flashes across his face. But I’m barely conscious, so there’s a good chance it was just my imagination. “It’s Rico, Jesse. Enrico Flores. Your brother sent me.”
“Adam?” I ask. I don’t know why. It’s not like I have another brother he could be talking about. But hearing that he’s still looking out for me even from the other side of the world overwhelms me, and a sob escapes my chest. “I’m sorry,” I blubber as more tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
The angel’s face softens again. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you in the shower.”
Something about the way he says the word ‘kid’ sparks a memory. It’s warm and comforting, making me want to lean into him as he very carefully hauls my ass off the floor and coaxes me toward the bathroom. I haven’t even mentioned the pain I’m in, but he’s automatically accommodating for it. Clinging to him feels right, like I know he’ll keep me safe.
That’s ridiculous. No one’s ever kept me safe.
But this guy…my angel…Rico.
Enrico Flores.
A brain cell fires. Ohfuck.