“Fuck me! This is assault. Somebody call the cops!”
The mean nurse doesn’t blink. New gauze, more tape, another rip. My ribs bark when I try to roll away. Doesn’t matter. She’s got me pinned like a bug on the sidewalk. Skinning me alive with every wash and dress of my road rash.
“You enjoy this,” I groan, clutching the sheet like it’s a shield. “You wake up excited to torture hot young dudes, huh?”
No answer. Just more gauze. She’s immune to my complaints. Across the room, Massimo’s planted in his usual chair. He hasn’t looked up from his phone in ten minutes. Smiling at the fucking thing.
“Bro,” I hiss, trying to catch his eye. “You see this? Cruel and unusual punishment. You’re supposed to protect me. There are laws and shit against this kind of abuse.”
He exhales through his nose. Doesn’t look up, though.
“Unbelievable. My own twin. Traitor.”
The door creaks open.
My distraction.
My angel. Sofia. Not in scrubs. Tight ass jeans with creases across the middle of her thick thighs. Hoops swinging. She’s not on the clock. Makes her even hotter. She leans on the doorframe for a second, eyes cutting straight to my brother.
“Sofia. Baby. My angel.” I gasp and reach for her while the nurse peels another strip. “Save me from Helga the Horrible.”
“Ay, Nene.” Her gaze flicks to me, not caring. “I thought you were my brave boy, but you’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? I’m being flayed alive! Look at this.” I jab at the angry red road rash running from my ribs to my hip. “She doesn’t give a shit. She’s destroying me. I won’t be pretty anymore. Mas, get me plastic surgery.”
Bro finally pockets his phone and stands. Crosses to Sofia like she’s the only person in the room. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s always like this when she gets off her shift. I hate it. Mas said he’s not cutting me out. Feels like he is.
“Really?” I wave my arm. “I’m dying here, and you two are making googly eyes. Can you at least wait until I’m sedated or drugged up?”
The nurse mutters something about pain tolerance and rips another strip. I yelp, slam my head back against the pillow.
“Swear to God, I’m writing Yelp reviews about this hospital. One star. ‘They tried to kill me by waxing my open flesh. Skinning me alive.’”
Sofia’s lips twitch. Almost a smile, but she hides it behind crossing her arms. Mas leans in to say something low. She elbows him in the chest. He grunts, grins, and doesn’t move. I’m happy he doesn’t get to kiss her at work. Happy he doesn’t get what I want. At least not in front of me. Damn traitor.
“Em, we’ve been through this a million times. They have to keep the wounds clean so they don’t get infected, and you get sepsis,” Mas says, finally acknowledging me.
His eyes are glued to her. I groan louder. Forcing her attention back on me and not him. And not his damn logic either. No one wants to hear that shit.
“You know what else is cruel? Physical therapy. They said crutches today. You see my leg?” I yank the blanket back, showing off the cast like a prize. “I’m supposed to hobble around with this bulky thing while my ribs stab me from the inside. Mas, you’d better get me a wheelchair with rims. Chrome. Spinners. Neon green accents to match my bike and car.”
Massimo rips his eyeballs from our new girlfriend. Flat glaring at me.
“You’re doing PT. You want to look like a little pussy next to me? We won’t look like twins anymore. You’ll look like the after picture of a weight loss ad.”
“Fuck you. After picture . . . That’s what I get? No sympathy? This family sucks.”
Sofia smothers a laugh behind her hand. Hiding those fucking DSLs. I can’t wait to shove my cock between them. That’s all the encouragement I need. I jab my finger at her.
“You. You’re supposed to care. I’m your patient. Where’s the compassion?”
“You were my patient. But now that you’re on the regular floor and heading home tomorrow, you’re fine. That’s compassion.”
Her eyes flick down my chest, then back up. I’ve noticed she’s been doing that a lot when she comes by to get Mas. I think she’s figuring out how we can fuck.
Yeah.
Same twin.
