The pain in my leg, exacerbated by my inability to warm my damp skin, got worse. Muscle spasms twisted me up from my calf to my shoulder blades. An inhuman groan escaped me. Legit rolling back into the pool to drown myself seemed like the only solution, and I drove my fist into the lounger. Limping around like a dipshit, I could live with, but this? Creasing up in public when I’d already made a fool of myself enough for a thousand lifetimes? Yeah. I could’ve cried about that too.
“Micah?”
“Huh?” I ripped my eyes open. Of all people, Freddie stood over me, his frown one I recognised from a much darker time. “What?”
“Dude, what’s wrong? Cramp?”
I nodded, gritting my teeth.
Freddie crouched beside me. He laid a tentative hand on my seized leg, and I hit the roof.
He retracted like he’d been burned. “Jesus. Okay, let’s get you out of here.”
Was he fucking mad? I fell back on the lounger and glared at him. “Just get me a towel, bro.”
“On it.”
Freddie produced a towel from seemingly nowhere, then a hoodie and a pair of sweats I had zero chance of pulling up my fucked leg on my own.
“Come on, mate,” Freddie coaxed. “Help me out a little bit here.”
Somehow, he got me dressed without me screaming or punching him in the face. The warmth from the clothes eased the spasms in my back, but my leg was still a write-off. I couldn’t breathe. Freddie held a bottle of water to my lips. I choked on it and pushed it away. “Leave me. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, and I’m a bird in a dress. Look, my car’s right outside. Let me take you to a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor. It’s cramp.”
“So? Wouldn’t hurt to get checked outandto get away from prying eyes. Know what I mean?”
I looked beyond him. The pool had started to fill with weekend gym wankers who never showed their faces during the week. None had noticed me and Freddie huddled in the corner yet, but it wouldn’t be long. “I can’t walk.”
“I know. I’ll help you. It’s right outside, mate. I’ve got you.”
I’d spent a lot of time wondering how Freddie could be such a dick to the rest of the world but an absolute dude for me, even after I’d fallen out of the closet. Especially after. But I couldn’t think straight—ha—enough to argue with him now. This pain was fucking lit.
I took his outstretched hands and let him haul me to my feet.
* * *
I came to on a hospital bed in what looked like a hotel room. My head was fuzzy, and I was alone. A dull ache reverberated through my damaged leg, a fraction of the agony I last remembered before some quack in a white coat had stuck me with a needle. I tested it for movement, pleased to find the muscles loose enough to bend and stretch but horrified by the fact I had no trousers on beneath the thin white blanket.What the fuck happened?
“Muscle relaxants,” Freddie said from somewhere before looming over me. “Then you fell asleep. Considering how cut up you were, I figured I’d leave you to wake up on your own.”
The fact that he’d seen me in a far bigger mess than this didn’t make his presence any less humiliating. “Where am I?”
“Fallgate Clinic. Liverpool Street.”
My heart sank. Not because Freddie had spirited me to a private clinic without the goldfish bowl horrors of a public A&E, but because I had no idea how I was going to pay for it. I mean, I had money, but I needed that shit to last the rest of my entire goddamn life. “Fuck.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, man. Thanks for helping me out.”
“You don’t look too impressed. If you’re worried about fronting the bill, don’t. I got you.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“The fuck not? I’ve got more money than sense, remember?”
