Ryder grabs my hands and inspects them closely. They’re swollen and bloody still. He’s looking at a deep gash on my right hand that’s still leaking blood when he asks, “Holy shit, Alex. This looks bad. Did you have this cleaned up yet?”
“Uh, no. We came here and started drinking immediately. First aid wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities given my mental state.”
“I think I should take you to the clinic to get it looked at. It looks like you cut yourself on her teeth and it could get infected if you don’t get it cleaned out properly. You might even need a couple of stitches.” He looks me in the eye. “Why didn’t you say something last night before you left Connor’s?”
“Oh, you know,” I attempt to gesture nonchalantly with my injured hand, but I’m stopped short by the pain. Shit, it must be bad if I can feel it now, even though I’m still a little drunk. Funny how I didn’t notice the pain before. “I had other things on my mind. I didn’t even realize my hands were this bad until you just looked at them, actually. Must’ve been the adrenaline.”
“Well, get your shit, I’m taking you to get looked at right now.”
I try to protest, but Ryder isn’t listening to it at all. He looks around the apartment and finds my wallet and phone. My keys are harder to track down, but he finally finds them in the freezer. Huh, must’ve put them in there when I was getting ice last night. He even helps me get my shoes on since now that I’ve felt how much my hand hurts, I can’t seem to not feel it.
We get out to the car, and he even has to do up my seatbelt for me. Fuck, I really hope I did some damage to that chick’s face for all the trouble it’s causing me now. I’m betting I broke my hand. I’ve seen enough boxers’ fractures in my life because of Pops’ gym that I think I’m qualified to make that assessment. I distract myself on the way to the clinic by talking to Ryder some more. Just not about Connor.
“So how did you know where I live, anyway?”
“I got Johnny to ask Becca.” He looks over at me, as if to gauge my response.
“What?” Johnny and Becca are talking? That is new information. She didn’t tell me that. We are so having words when she gets home from work.
“Yeah, I had him text her for me. You weren’t answering calls or texts from anyone, and I needed to get in touch with you.” He points to my hands. “And it looks like it’s a good thing we found you, before that cut gets any worse.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Hey,” I say, brightening up, “Maybe they can help me fend off the hangover that’s bound to hit me soon. I’ve seen people on TV use IV saline or something like that. My plan was to stay drunk for the rest of the day, but going to the clinic right now has put a wrench in that. I’m sure they’d frown upon me drinking during an examination.”
“Here.” He passes me a bottle of water that he pulled out from behind my seat. “Drink this. It will help. I have painkillers in my pocket too, if the doctor doesn’t prescribe something for you.”
“Thanks, Ryder.”
He really has proven himself to be a good friend. In fact, he’s an even better friend than I thought. After pulling up at the clinic, he brings me right in and helps me fill out the paperwork. As I suspected, the doctor sends me for an x-ray and while waiting for the results, a nurse cleans out the wounds and puts some butterfly bandages on. She thinks I will need stitches but wants to wait until we know if I need a cast for a break. We don’t have to wait long before we find that I have, in fact, broken a bone in my hand. The doctor wants to put a cast on it so we stick with the butterfly bandages, since I won’t risk opening the wound by moving my hand.
“Well, this sucks,” I say, as we’re on our way out. I hold up my sparkly black cast. “This won’t make it easy to find a new job. Guess I’m taking a six-week vacation. Good thing Becca doesn’t expect much rent from me.”
I glimpse my reflection in a window as we walk outside. “Shit, you let me leave the house looking like this?” I point at the bun resting loosely on the side of my head, amidst a nest of loose and tangled strands, and then at the mascara that has very obviously been cried off my eyelashes and onto my cheeks. “You’re lucky they didn’t call the cops on you. It looks like we got into a fight.”
He laughs at me. “I honestly didn’t think of that once I saw your hands. I just wanted to get you here to get it looked at.” He bends down into a strange-looking fight stance and pretends to throw a couple of punches at me. “Plus, you did get into a fight. It just wasn’t with me.”
I think about that for a second as we get back into the car and Ryder buckles me up again. If I hurt myself this badly, that girl must have at least some bruising. I could be in big shit for what I did last night, regardless of the circumstances.
“Do you think that chick is going to press charges?” I ask Ryder, seriously. “I assaulted her, and I imagine she’s hurt pretty badly.” I’m kind of worried now. Last night I was so mad that I didn’t even think about what could happen. What even possessed me to attack the girl and not Connor? When I caught Derek, I went right after him. I never blame the girl, because it’s the guy who I expect faithfulness from. The girl usually doesn’t even know there is a girlfriend in the picture.
“About that.” he looks over at me. I guess we’re talking about Connor after all. Shit. “Connor has Denise and the lawyers working on it. They’re pretty certain that you’re fine since you were protecting Connor from a crime.”
“I was… wait, what?”
Chapter 51
Connor - Just Desserts
To say it surprised me to wake up in the hospital after what should have been my date night with Alex would be the understatement of the year. Finding out that the groupie from the bathroom at the concert had roofied me and dragged me home in order to rape me has me seriously fucked up. I would have never, ever,everbelieved that someone would have the ability to do such a thing to a guy, let alone actually attempt to do it tome. She had to move fast once the drug started to take effect, otherwise she’d never have been able to get me out of her car. I could already barely walk when I got there, if my memory can be trusted at all. Imagine what another five minutes would have done.
Of course, if I’d been stuck in her car at the house, then Alex would have seen the state I was in and I wouldn’t be in this mess with her.
The police questioned the girl, and she confessed to drugging my drink at Rough Mix and then getting me outside and driving me home. Apparently she followed us back to my place that day that we saw her at the diner. She faked sick to go home and then waited for us to leave so she could follow us. Bill told us she’d been at the bar every night for the last week. I guess she was just waiting for her chance to put something in my drink. The surveillance footage shows her leaning over me when I’m looking towards the bathrooms, so I assume that is when she did it.
“Hey asshole,” Devon’s here at the hospital to pick me up now that they’ve discharged me. “All set?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” I still feel nauseated, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. Feels like a bitch of a hangover. At least I was able to shower and change into the clothes that Ryder brought for me earlier. Nothing smells worse than day old vomit.
“Ryder went to find Alex, so you don’t need to worry that she’s got her phone turned off.”
