Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I start to cry because I’ve seen the movies. They always shoot the guy trying to help. Jordy is only trying to help.
“Don’t cry, pussy,” Jordy jokes, but there’s unmistakable fear in his voice.
“P-Please d-don’t shoot him,” I beg Fitzgerald. “Please.”
“Boys,” Fitzgerald says in a fatherly tone. “No one is getting shot as long as everyone cooperates. Roan, can you move? Can you come out like Roux did?”
I try to lift my head, but the headache only intensifies. Bile rises up my throat and I dry heave. “I d-don’t think s-so. I f-feel like I’m g-going to p-puke.”
Jordy looks down at me. “His head is bleeding.”
“Okay,” Fitzgerald coos. “It’s okay. We have paramedics here to help Roan.”
I think about Hollis in his paramedic clothes.
God, I miss him.
“Since Roan can’t get up, Jordy, we’re really going to need your help so we can get him the aid he needs,” Fitzgerald says in a stern voice. “That means tossing the gun away and putting your hands in the air. It’s just procedure. To keep everyone safe.”
“You won’t shoot me?” Jordy asks. “They still need me. You can’t shoot me.”
“No one is going to shoot you,” Fitzgerald tells him. “Please, son. Let’s get Roan checked out. This will be all over soon. You two boys could use a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m tired,” Jordy agrees in a childlike voice. “Really tired.”
He yawns and pushes the gun away. His fingers brush over my head on a sore spot and I wince.
“Good job,” Fitzgerald praises. “Now put your arms up. I’m going to walk into the room. You’ll see both my hands. Officer Young is going to come behind me with his weapon, but that’s just to keep us all safe. No one is getting shot, okay?”
Jordy lifts his arms. “Okay.”
Everyone moves in slow motion. An older man with salt and pepper hair walks in just as he said. He’s smiling grimly at us, his eyes raking over me, assessing me for damage. Young creeps in behind him.
“Now, Jordy, I’m going to have to handcuff you until we sort all this out at the station, okay? So don’t fight me on this. It’s to keep everyone safe.”
Fitzgerald steps over me and then comes behind Jordy. Young pounces on me, scooping me up like I don’t weigh just over two hundred pounds. I can hear Fitzgerald reading Jordy his rights as he cuffs him. The room spins and I turn my head to throw up. Everything is a blur.
Voices.
Lights.
Managed chaos.
“Jordy,” I whine. “Roux.”
“Roux is going to the hospital too. To get checked out,” a male paramedic tells me. “Everything is going to be okay.”
My eyes meet Jordy’s dark ones as they lead him out of the apartment. Fitzgerald said everything would be sorted out at the station. Everything is going to be okay.
As the stretcher rolls out of the apartment, I close my eyes and let relief settle in my bones.
We did it.
We’re safe.
No one got shot.
Hollis
“Where am I?” I ask a woman with white hair.
She smiles kindly at me. “You’re in surgery recovery. Dr. Edmond said he already spoke to you. The surgery was successful. Now we’re just waiting for you to wake up before we put you in a room.” She pats my hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
Her laughter reminds me of my grandma’s. “Wonderful. Would you like to see your parents now?”
I nod, though I don’t especially want to see my father. She disappears and I fall back asleep. When I wake again, both Mom and Dad are at my bedside.
Dad is normally aloof and impassive, but right now, he looks relieved, which is confusing because I figured he’d want his gay son to die off in surgery. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
“Glad to see you awake, little buddy.”
My heart clenches at the name he called me when I was little.
“They fixed it,” Mom tells me, her eyes brimming with tears. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Roan?”
Mom stiffens. “You’ll see him soon.”
“Where is he?” I croak.
“Here. Both he and Roux are.”
I frown, trying to make sense of her words. “In the waiting room?”
“They’re being checked out.”
“What? Why?” Alarm has me wanting to sit up, but everything feels heavy and achy. The pain meds have me feeling as though I’m in a fog. “I want to see them.”
“We can talk about it later,” Mom says in a gentle voice. “They’re okay, though. That’s all that matters.”
Oh, fuck this hurts.
I hit the nurse button, needing her to show up with my pain meds already. This action has both Mom and Dad waking up. We’ve since been moved to a room and I can see the sunrise from my vantage point.
“What’s wrong?” Dad asks, walking over to me and assessing me. “What’s your pain level?”
“I hurt,” I groan. “It hurts.”
“You had stomach surgery. There will be pain. I’ll go find a nurse.” He pats my hand before leaving.