Crash Into Me (Into Me Series Book One)

Chapter Seven - Stitch

"You're bleeding," her voice says, "you fucking idiot."

I follow the sound of her voice and see her leaning against the building. I act like I don't see her wiping tears off of her face as she gets near. I watch her closely, the fluidity of her steps, her hands stuffed into her pockets, shoulders slumped forward, eyes cast down.

I did that.

"Jet, I don't need you to come swoop in and fix everything for me," I argue, starting to walk away from her.
"Don't be fucking stupid, you idiot," she banters. "Just let me stop the bleeding at least so you don't die in the parking lot of this shitty ass bar."
"Jet-"
"Don't fucking argue with me."

I close my mouth and nod. She motions for me to follow her with a tilt of her head. I do as I'm told and walk a few steps behind her. She brings me in through one of the back doors of the bar. We reach what looks like a supply room with a metal table in the middle of it. She flicks on some bright lights and motions for me to get up onto the table. I narrow my eyes at her and she cocks her eyebrow at me, motioning again to get on the table.

I roll my eyes, but do what I'm told, sliding my ass up onto the table. Jet sighs, pulling her hair up with the scrunchie she keeps on her wrist. She lifts up my shirt, looking at my left side. I watch her intently, as her eyes fly over my chest and her eyebrows furrow and then unfurrow and then furrow again, like she's having a conversation with herself in her head. She chews on her bottom lip, eyes focused as she feels around my incision. She presses into it and I inhale sharply, a wave of pain coming from where her fingers are.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she mutters with sincerity. She continues to press around, causing twinges of pain to ebb with each press. "I know this is hurting you, I'm sorry, I'm really trying not to, but I need to do this to see what's going on," she explains. And I know she's being truthful because she hesitates before each touch, her fingers landing as gently as they can on my skin. She starts nodding to herself, mumbling under her breath. "Alright," she says suddenly, straightening up abruptly. "Stay here, I'll be back. Don't do anything fucking stupid."

She drops my shirt and narrows her eyes at me. "Jesus, okay, I won't move," I stress. She narrows her eyes even more. "I promise I won't! Jesus fuck!" I curse.

She walks out of the door we came in, yelling someone's name as she speed walks down the hall. The door slams shut, leaving me alone. I look around the room, cases upon cases of alcohol stacked on shelves that line the walls. Beers I've never heard of, four different types of vodka, six tequilas, various flavors of schnapps. The door opens again, Jet appearing with a bag slung over her shoulder as she argues with someone.

"Brian, I'll be fine, you can go," she assures.
"Jet, I still don't like the idea of you going in there alone, he has a fucking temper," a guy says, walking into the backroom with her.

I recognize him as the guitarist. He was also one of the assholes holding me down in the ER. He locks eyes with me. I notice the Marine Corps insignia tattooed on his left bicep. He has a hand around Jet's arm, pulling her towards him. You can tell that he is very protective of her.

"I could say the same thing about you," she counters.
He huffs in response, letting go of Jet's arm, and looks back at me, glaring yet again. "If you fucking touch her, if one hair is out of place on her head, if she comes out of this room with so much as a sniffle, I will kill you," he threatens, pointing his finger at me, taking a few steps toward me.
"You got it, chief," I tell him.
He narrows his eyes at me, slowly backing out of the room. He looks over to Jet, "I'll be right outside the door. Just yell if you need me, I'll be right there, okay?"
"Brian, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl," she tells him.