#Junkie (GearShark #1)

by Cambria Hebert

  “Trent!” Drew called over the sound of the running engine.

  “I’m fine,” I said. He probably couldn’t hear me.

  His pounding feet and a string of curses came close, and then he was there, wrapping one arm around my middle and helping me stand.

  I sagged into his side, grateful for the support.

  “Oh my God, T. What the fuck happened to you?”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted again.

  “Who the fuck did this?” he growled. His voice radiated with anger, and the arm holding me shook with rage.

  “Drew?” I said, trying to focus on his face, but my one eye was swollen shut.

  “Yeah?” His voice gentled.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Hospital,” he insisted and half dragged me to his car.

  “No.” My voice was firm. “Home.”

  He stopped long enough to pick up my phone, and then he was helping me into the car. I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes close. I pressed a hand to my side, my breathing shallow.

  “T,” Drew said from the driver’s seat. I felt him stare. His voice held so much worry and fear.

  I smiled. It hurt, but I did it anyway. “I want to go home.”

  He made a choked sound and then the car was flying. The sound of the engine growling as he sped through the streets was sort of like a lullaby.

  “What the fuck happened?” Drew’s voice was broken.

  All the nasty things they said as the blows rained down filled my head as my body throbbed. I whispered the only response I could.

  “Hate.”

  Drew

  “Ivy!” I roared when we stepped in the front door.

  It rattled when I kicked it shut behind us, and I led Trent farther into the house.

  Ivy appeared at the top of the step. “The baby is sl—” She gasped. “Oh my God! What happened?”

  “I need the first aid kit,” I rasped.

  “I’m fine,” Trent insisted for like the hundredth time.

  He was not fine.

  And whoever did this was dead.

  He looked like dog meat. His face was bloody and bruised. One eye was already swollen shut. There was a cut on his ear and a gash in his head.

  Trent’s lip was busted and his teeth were stained red. I could tell by the way he favored his side and breathed shallow breaths his ribs were probably broken. Or maybe just cracked.

  Like one was better than the other.

  I wasn’t sure where else he was hurt, but I knew he was in places I couldn’t see.

  The helplessness I felt when my headlights bounced over a stumbling man in the parking lot just minutes ago washed over me all over again. The way his legs just buckled and he sat there supported by his car.

  Alone in the dark. Bleeding.

  If that hadn’t been bad enough… I realized it was Trent.

  It made me sick inside.

  The absolute panic that gripped my chest to see such a strong, capable guy down like that ripped me open. It was an image I would never be able to erase from my mind.

  It would haunt me forever.

  At first, he seemed disoriented, making me worry he might have a concussion. Or maybe it was just the pain.

  Clearly, he was jumped and taken by surprise. There was no other explanation. Trent wouldn’t lose like this in a fair fight.

  When he told me he wanted to go home, his words were like a jagged knife to my gut. I worried he needed the kind of medical attention I wasn’t able to give, but how could I argue with such a heartbreaking request?

  I was hoping he looked worse than he was because of all the blood.

  The gash along his hairline was probably responsible for most of the blood. Head wounds bled excessively. Maybe once he was cleaned up, he wouldn’t look so bad.

  That was a lie.

  It wouldn’t matter how much better Trent looked when he was clean. Seeing him in pain at all was worse than taking an actual beating myself.

  If only I had been there.

  “Braeden!” Ivy yelled and disappeared from the top of the stairs.

  “C’mon, frat boy,” I said gently and turned us toward the living room.

  “I’m not one of them,” he ground out. “Never again.”

  The muscles in my jaw clenched so forcefully I heard them grind. Omega did this to him?

  Probably that little pecker Conner. He should know not to start wars he couldn’t win.

  “Here.” I unlocked my jaw and tried to speak without malice. As pissed as I was, this was not about them right now. It was only about Trent. “Sit down. Easy.”

  I used both my arms and wrapped them around his waist to guide him down so he wouldn’t jar his injuries too bad. When he reclined against the cushions, a breath hissed from between his teeth.

  “Damn, T,” I said, taking his chin in my hand and staring at the damage. “How bad are you hurting?”

  “Not so bad when you touch me.” He smiled.

  Well, I thought he did. Half his lip was too swollen to turn up.

  Yet he still smiled at me.

  “I love you.” The words tumbled out, faster than I’d ever driven a car.

  His eyes flared, even the one swollen side opened wide enough for me to see the surprise.

  “I really fucking do.” I admitted, my voice low, just for us.

  “You’re better than any hospital would ever be, Forrester.” His hand lifted and grasped the front of my shirt. He started to say something else, but Braeden pounded down the stairs and rushed into the room and around the couch.

  I released Trent’s chin and moved back just enough so B could feast his eyes on the mess.

  “Oh, hells no!” Braeden roared. His fists clenched and he paced a little in front of the coffee table. “Who did this?” he demanded, harsh.

  Ivy raced into the room, carrying a large white box with a red cross on the front. “Here! I got this.” At the side of the table, her feet stopped like she stepped in glue, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Trent.”

  “I’m okay,” he vowed. “I’ve taken harder hits on the field.”

  Ivy sniffled and tried to swallow back her tears. She didn’t do a very good job, but I couldn’t blame her. I teared up looking at him the first time, too.

  “We got a family situation,” Braeden growled into the phone pressed to his ear. I knew he had to be talking to Romeo. “You better get your ass here.”

  “I just need a Band-Aid,” Trent said. His tongue seemed thick, because his words were slightly slurred.

  Ivy set the kit on the table, flung open the lid, and scrounged around. She came up with a dark-brown bottle with a white cap and a clean white cloth. “Let’s clean you up.” She rushed around the table toward him and reached out.

  “Don’t touch him,” I snarled and moved forward to block her.

  “Whoa.” Braeden cut in and swiftly pulled Ivy back so he could squeeze in front of her. “We got a problem?”

  “I’m sorry, Ives.” I was immediately contrite. “I’m just tense. Finding my… best friend lying in a parking lot—”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said and stepped around B to extend the supplies. “Here.”

  I took them because even though I felt bad for snapping at her, I still didn’t want anyone else to clean up T.

  “I’ll get some ice and pain relievers,” she said and went quickly from the room.

  “Fuck,” I muttered and yanked the coffee table closer so I could sit on it right in front of Trent.

  “S’okay,” he told me.

  I uncapped the bottle and dumped some of the stuff on the cloth.

  “Someone jump you?” Braeden demanded.

  Trent grunted. “Four of them.”

  The plastic of the bottle in my hand made a harsh sound when the side dented in from the pressure of my fist as it tightened at his words.

  “Please tell me you know who they were. Even just one. I just need one name.” Braeden paced behind us
.

  “It’s gonna hurt like hell.” I warned him and leaned forward.

  “Just do it.”

  We locked eyes, and a moment passed between us. Gently, I started dabbing at the cut on his head. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Trent.” Braeden’s voice was impatient.

  “They’re Omega.”

  Braeden stopped pacing. “Your own brothers jumped you?” His voice had gone quiet. Deadly. That was a dangerous tone for Braeden.

  “They aren’t my brothers,” Trent replied.

  “You said everything was fine over there,” B pressed.

  He had said that. Why hadn’t I known he was lying? Why hadn’t I paid closer attention?

  The gash in his forehead was a little deeper than I liked, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore, just oozing a little. Once I had the area around it clean and dry, I pulled out a butterfly bandage and applied it. Trent’s eyes dropped closed as I worked, applying a wide bandage over the butterfly, just to keep it clean for now.

  “Why would they do this to you?” Braeden demanded. His pacing resumed.

  Trent’s eyes opened and he looked at me. What I saw penetrated my chest. The look he wore was shuttered, the kind of look he reserved for people that weren’t me.

  I knew then it was bad.

  “Why?” I asked low.

  His eyes shifted away and locked on Braeden. “Because I’m gay.”

  I’d never heard Braeden so silent before. It was like he was struck speechless. Trent held his eyes directly on B, but I didn’t turn around to see his reaction. I was too focused on the man in front of me.

  “Got the ice,” Ivy hurried back to my side. The bottle of pain reliever in her hands rattled with pills. She noticed the dead silence in the room and hesitated.

  “Beer,” Trent asked.

  “Water,” I corrected.

  Braeden made a rude sound. “Get the man a beer, baby. He’s had a rough night.”

  “He can’t take pills with beer,” I snapped.

  “What are you, his mom?” B argued.

  “Water’s fine,” Trent said, but Ivy was already gone to the kitchen.

  I went back to cleaning up his face, and his eyes dropped closed again. The room was silent for long minutes, even when Ivy came back with a beer and a water in her hands.

  The more blood I cleaned off him, the more bruises I found. My stomach was so knotted I wondered if it would bear the kinks from tonight for the rest of my life.

  Once his face was completely clean and patched up, I uncapped the water and handed it to him with some pills.

  His knuckles were red and scraped up, so when he was done drinking, I grabbed his hand and started cleaning that up, too.

  “I think his ribs are broken,” I said.

  “I can call my mom, have her come over.” B’s mom was a nurse. She probably would know for certain if he needed medical attention or not.

  “That would be—”

  “No.” Trent cut in. “Not tonight.”

  “Can you breathe okay?” B asked.

  “Good enough,” he answered.

  I made a frustrated sound. Trent gave me that shuttered look again, and I shut up.

  “We’ll call her in the morning,” he offered, like he wanted to pacify me.

  I nodded because I wanted to pacify him, too.

  Trent looked at Braeden. “You gonna say anything?”

  “I do have one question.” He hedged.

  I glanced at Ivy, wondering what she was going to think when we filled her in on Trent’s status.

  “Ask,” Trent urged, shifting a little. A grimace pulled at his lips, and I wanted to rip his shirt up and look at the damage to his midsection.

  “Does size really matter?” B deadpanned.

  Everyone went silent for one heartbeat, and then Trent started laughing.

  “Ow,” he groaned. “Dammit, B. No more jokes.” His hand pressed to his side even as he chuckled.

  “Braeden James Walker!” Ivy gasped. “I cannot believe you. They tell you they’re in a relationship and you ask them about their size preference!”

  You could have heard a pin drop in the center of the room.

  Trent never told B he and I were involved. He hadn’t mentioned me at all.

  Guess that made it pretty clear my sister already knew.

  “It’s a legit question,” Braeden finally said.

  I looked at him, shock clear on my face.

  Braeden glanced between me and T and waved a hand. “You think that’s news? We all know.”

  “You know?” I repeated, shocked.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a dumbass.”

  Trent laughed again, and it turned into another groan.

  “You should lie down.” Ivy worried. “Are you hurting anywhere else besides your ribs? Do you have pain anywhere else?”

  “I’m okay,” he answered. “It didn’t last that long. They were nervous they were gonna get caught.”

  “They’re gonna get caught,” B intoned.

  For once, my brother-in-law’s hot temper seemed like a good thing. It would be useful when I went to Omega to kick ass.

  “You can’t go to sleep yet,” I told him. “You might have a concussion.”

  “I don’t,” he argued. “I’ve had enough from football to know. My head’s fine.”

  “Stop being so damn stubborn,” I told him, with less heat than I intended. I just couldn’t bring myself to yell at him. I glanced at Braeden. “Call your mom.”

  “I was right to not want to tell anyone.” Trent dropped those words into the room like an atomic bomb. They literally blew up a chunk of my heart. I hated those words.

  I hated he was right.

  Why did people have to be so fucking hateful?

  Ivy made a distressed sound and eased on the couch right beside him. “No one in this house cares who you love, Trent.” She glanced at me, including me in her words. “You don’t ever have to hesitate to say anything to us. You’re our family. We love you no matter what.”

  Trent reached for Ivy’s hand, and she gave it willingly. She held out her other one to me, and I took it.

  “I love you both. I want you to be happy.”

  I swallowed, forcing down the emotion. I wasn’t going to cry. I didn’t cry.

  But hearing those words from my sister was something I desperately needed. I hadn’t realized how bad until she gave them.

  “I think you make a good couple.” She went on and grinned.

  “Thanks, Ivy,” Trent said.

  I could only nod. She gave my fingers a squeeze like she knew I couldn’t speak. She glanced over her shoulder at B.

  He cleared his throat. “It fucking pisses me off this happened to you, Trent. I know it kind of forced you guys to tell us when you clearly weren’t ready. But I’m glad, ‘cause I’ve been wanting to say this to you for a while.”

  I swiveled and looked at him. He met my eyes and nodded.

  “I don’t care you guys have some man love.”

  Man love? Classic Braeden.

  “You’re my family, and nothing is going to change that.”

  Ivy’s face shone with pride, and she nodded, agreeing with him. I stood up and offered B my hand. He took it and pulled me close, and we hugged with the table between us.

  “We aren’t going to let this go unpunished,” he whispered in my ear.

  I pulled back and nodded, letting him see the blazing anger in my eyes.

  “Put some ice on your face, man,” he said to Trent. “That shit looks painful.”

  Ivy picked up the cold pack in her lap and lifted it toward his face. Then she stopped and glanced at me. “Here.” She gave the pack to me instead.

  With a small smile, I took it and very carefully pressed it against Trent’s eye. “Hold this,” I told him. Once his hand was over it, I held mine out between us. “C’mon, you’re going to bed, and we need to check your ribs.”

  Trent let me help hi
m up. The stiff way he moved and the grimace on his face made me angry all over again. The need to punch something filled my limbs like adrenaline.

  He leaned on me as we went from the room. Ivy wrung her hands like she didn’t know what to do, and Braeden stood there scowling. I caught his eye and made a signal for him to call his mom. I didn’t care what Trent said. Someone needed to look at him.

  B nodded and palmed his phone.

  “Don’t get naked!” B called. “Rome will be up as soon as he walks in.”

  Trent laughed again and doubled over in pain.

  I gave B the finger.

  I left the bedroom door wide open and turned on the light the second we walked in. Trent slipped out from under my arm and moved slowly toward the bed.

  “Take off your shirt,” I instructed.

  A sound of protest ripped from his throat. I moved across the room and grabbed his shirt and ripped.

  It made a distinct tearing sound as I split it up the front.

  “I know you like my body, Forrester, but damn,” he joked weakly.

  I pushed the ruined shirt off his body and looked down.

  His right side was black and blue. Some of the skin was mottled and swollen. There was no way in hell his ribs were just cracked.

  Motherfuckers.

  I shoved away from him and tucked my hands behind my neck, digging them into my skin. I didn’t know what to do with all the rage inside me. I’d never been this upset before.

  There was a bruise on his left shoulder, too. Someone kicked him. I could almost see it clearly in my tortured thoughts.

  “Drew,” he said, moving across the room to me.

  I kept pacing.

  He grabbed my arm and I stilled, not wanting my abrupt movements to jar him in any way.

  “Calm down. I’m gonna be fine. I’m not the first guy to get his ass kicked in a fight.”

  “This was not a fight,” I ground out. “This was an attack.”

  His hand curled around the back of my neck and tugged. I stepped into him, careful where my body came into contact with his. We held each other for long, silent moments.

  Downstairs, the front door slammed, and I heard voices.

  Romeo was home.

  I pulled back from T, went to the door, and swung it closed. I needed some time with him. Just us.

  “C’mon,” I told him and pulled back the comforter and sheets.