“No, don’t get up, Chessie,” Paulie says hoarsely. “Stay still for me.”
“Chessie?”
“It’s what he used to call Frankie when he was little,” East murmurs. “Couldn’t say Francesco.”
“We need to get this checked out,” Maddox says. “It’s already swelling. Visually, it looks okay, but Devereux could have easily fractured the cheekbone.”
I step forward, already pulling my keys from my pocket. “Take my car, Pauls. And Easton, too, to help. Maddox and I will stay back…”
For Shane.
I catch Maddox’s eye in the shadows, and he nods. “We’ll make sure the rest of the crew gets home. You guys take Frankie to the hospital.”
“Um. Excuse me?” A small voice sounds from behind us.
I turn and come face to face with the pretty brunette.
Her gaze falls on Frankie, and her eyes go wide. “S-sorry to interrupt. But your teammate is in a bad way.”
I step forward. “What’s wrong?”
“He said he was feeling sick and abruptly left. He was having trouble walking, so I helped him out the back entrance. He’s just stopped throwing up. I was afraid to leave him in case he’d choke.”
“Shit. Thank you.” I hurry past her toward the back exit. “We’ve got him from here,” I call over my shoulder.
I push through the door, look left and—Sunshine. My body hollows out. He’s in the fetal position on the disgusting back-alley ground, trembling violently. A second later, Maddox is at my side. He curses.
I drop to a knee in front of Shane, avoiding the mess of his sick. I push back a sweaty lock of hair. “Shane. Can you hear me?” His eyes are squeezed shut tight, mirroring how tightly his arms clench around his tucked-up knees. He nods, barely, but he does. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again?”
“Don’t know,” he says weakly.
“Do you think he needs the hospital too?” Maddox asks.
That’s a great question. I dust my knuckles over hischeek, and his eyes flutter open. His hazy gaze finds mine. “Do you know who I am? Can you tell me my name?”
“JJ,” he rasps.
It’s barely even audible, but it slices through me. Because I heard the plea in it.Save me.
Not from right now. From the spiral he’s fallen into.
I carefully gather him in my arms, doing my best not to jostle him. He groans and buries his head in my chest, his body going taut. His stomach heaves against me, and there’s a very good chance I’m going to end up covered in vomit. But I don’t even care. I just want to get him home. Get him into bed. Get him past this.
He lets out a breath and relaxes, his fingers curling weakly into my shirt. There’s one crisis averted.
“I’ve got you, Sunshine,” I whisper.
I carry him over to Maddox. “I think he’s all right. He’s responsive, breathing fine, and knows who I am. He’s just drunk out of his mind. With fluids, eventually some plain food, and sleep, he’ll be okay. But he’s going to hate himself tomorrow.”
“All right. Let’s go. We’ll have Paulie and East drop us off at the townhouse before they take Frankie to the hospital. Frankie’s sitting up now, lucid. Just in a fuck ton of pain.”
“Frank?” Shane slurs. “Hops-sti-cal?”
“Don’t worry about it, Sunshine. I’ll fill you in later. He’s okay.”
Right now, my first priority is getting the man in my arms home and cared for.
We get dropped off at their place, and Maddox helps me get Shane cleaned up, changed, and in bed. I’ve got a waste bin by his bedside, two bottles of Gatorade, a bag of oyster crackers, and ibuprofen if I can get enough food inhis system. So far, I’ve only managed a handful of crackers. I’ve pulled a kitchen chair in here and am sitting by his bed, ready if he needs me. He’s only thrown up once more since I got him home.
