“Oh, my God! Where did you find this?” Sue asked. “I need to get one for my brother.”
“You mean the T-shirt?” Janine winked. “I bought the shirt and sewed the message on myself.”
My jaw nearly hit the floor. “You did that? Holy crap, it looks so good. You Wrights have hidden talents.”
“We’re an artistic bunch alright. You fit right in.” Janine winked at me.
A suspicious frown creased my brow, but before I could analyze that remark, Cam and Sebastian started joking around again.
“That looks a lot like you, buddy,” Cam said, raising his glass of fruit juice.
“I don’t know.” Sebastian sat on the couch, his bandaged leg propped up on his new pillow, his food and gifts piled up around him. He resembled an unconventional sheik. “That scar over his eyebrow looks a lot like the one I gave you when we met at MIT.”
We all gasped.
“Is that how you two met?” Nikki’s eyes were round. “You got into a fight?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Freshman year. He was trying to steal my girl.”
“She hit on me,” Cam protested.
“Yeah, right.”
“Actually…”
As Cam proceeded to tell his version of the story, Sebastian searched the room for me. When our gazes met, his drew me like a magnet. He patted the seat beside him on the sofa. I picked up my iced tea and walked over, sitting gently on his good side. He cupped the back of my neck and drew my head down onto his uninjured shoulder, laying a soft kiss on my forehead.
I closed my eyes. For the first time in a week, the iron fist clutching my heart loosened its grip. I sat, listening to his steady heartbeat, trying not to cry like an idiot in front of our friends. Our world was going to regain its balance once more. We just needed time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sebastian
By six o’clock, I was done. Completely, utterly done.
The party had been amazing, our friends were great, the food was perfect, and coming home was the best thing in the world. But my body had reached its limit about two hours ago, and I’d been running on fumes and painkillers ever since. Every breath was a reminder of my broken ribs, my shoulder throbbed despite the sling, and my leg felt as though someone had taken a blowtorch to it.
I tried to hide it, of course. But Jesse knew me better than she knew herself.
While the girls cleaned up, Cam helped me get ready for the night. Jesse had already lowered the blinds and blasted the AC, creating a soothing semi-darkness that my exhausted brain appreciated. The apartment felt like a safe, cool cave where I could finally collapse.
“Alright, man.” Cam guided me toward the bathroom. “Let’s get you sorted.”
A shower was out of the question. The bandage covering the incisions and stitches on my leg couldn’t get wet, and I wasn’t allowed to go more than ten minutes without the sling. The surgeon had been very clear about that—something about keeping the shoulder immobilized while the ligaments healed. I’d stopped listening after ‘six weeks minimum.’
Cam waited outside while Jesse helped me with a sponge bath. I caught her wincing at the bruising on my chest and left side. The ugly palette of blue, green, and yellow made me look worse than a bad abstract painting.
“It’s not as sore as it was,” I offered, hoping to make her feel better.
It was a lie, but a small one. The sharp, stabbing pain had dulled to a persistent ache, which I supposed counted as improvement.
Her voice seemed to lodge in her throat, but she nodded. I wanted to tell her I was okay, but I was too tired to find the words.
I brushed my teeth—at least I could do that myself—and changed into boxers. Jesse straightened my sling. I forced myself to keep smiling, even though all I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for about three days straight.
Cam helped me down the hall to the bedroom. Each step felt like wading through concrete. The adrenaline that had kept me going through the homecoming had evaporated, leaving me hollow and shaky. A week ago, I could have crossed the apartment in two strides. Now I was shuffling like an old man, leaning on my best friend just to make it to my own bedroom.
I hated it. Hated feeling weak, hated needing help, hated the way Jesse’s eyes stayed filled with worry every time she looked at me. But mostly, I hated how close I’d come to never seeing my apartment again, never sleeping in my bed, never holding her.
