He didn't.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” he said to Dustin.
“I hate hospitals.”
“Your shoulder is dislocated.”
“You could put it back in.”
“I can't.”
“Then I'll find someone else to do it.” Dustin heaved another breath.
Greg looked at him, at the scrapes and blood on him. He was infuriating and stubborn and Greg felt something crack open in his chest that he knew he'd never be able to close again.
“Please,” he said. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
Dustin held his gaze for a longmoment. The air between them felt charged. Not because Dustin had kissed Greg yesterday, but because Greg had forgotten his own name the moment Dustin stopped moving.
“Fine,” Dustin said and tossed him the keys with his good arm. “You do know how to drive, right?”
Greg caught the keys.
He did not know how to drive.
CHAPTER 22
Greg was holding the keys like they were alive and might try to escape.
The seat was pushed back too far for him. He didn't adjust it. Instead he put his hands on the steering wheel and looked at Dustin. “What do I do?”
“Are you for real right now?” Dustin had gotten himself into the passenger seat. He hadn't bothered with the seat belt, but seeing Greg in the driver's seat like this, he was rethinking that decision. His whole left side already felt like it had been dragged through a cheese grater. He didn't need more injuries. “You start by putting the key in the ignition.”
Greg did as he was told, turning the key. The engine roared to life and his hands flew off the wheel like it had burned him.
“Hell,” Dustin muttered. “Put your foot on the brake. That's the wide pedal on the left.”
“Which left?”
“Your left. My left. Everyone's left.”
Greg found the pedal and pressed it. The relief on hisface when nothing exploded might have been comical if Dustin wasn't starting to think that tossing Greg the keys might just end up being the most dangerous stunt he'd ever pulled.
At least when he flung himself off cliffs he knew what he was doing.
Greg very clearly did not.
Dustin sighed and buckled his seatbelt.
“Move that stick there and pull it down to D.”
Greg pulled the shift to D. The truck hummed beneath him, eager to go somewhere.
“Okay. Take your foot off the brake. Gently.Gently, Greg?—”
The truck shot forward. Greg stomped the brake. They both jerked against their seatbelts and Dustin's vision went white as his shoulder slammed against the strap. A mangled sound came out of him and his right hand flew to brace his left arm.
“Sorry — I'm sorry?—”
