“No,” Deacon said. “We need to either get you inside and get you patched up with first-aid kits or bring you to the hospital.”
“No hospital,” I said. “Fuck. Alright. Let’s go.”
We went inside, and Lauren was standing in the middle of the hallway. She took one look at me and inhaled sharply.
“You didn’t,” she hissed.
“Not now,” I said. “I need to get patched up.”
“How could you do that?” Lauren demanded. “What happened?”
“He whipped that boy’s ass is what happened,” Deacon said. “Here, this is our bandage set. I’m going to need you in the bathroom, Carter.”
“I’ll do it,” Lauren said, taking the kit away from Deacon. “Go get me whiskey. He’s going to need it if I have to stitch him up. Go to the store and get me the cheapest, strongest stuff they have.”
“No need,” Deacon said. “I have the good stuff in my office.”
There was silence as Everett looked at him.
“You have what, where?”
“I have whiskey,” Deacon said, stumbling over his words a little. “Oh, in our office.”
“Jesus,” Everett said, shaking his head.
I made my way into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat, letting Lauren get to work. The wound on the back of my head was the worst one, and she washed it off as best she could and patched me up, putting a big bandage up there and tying it around my head with gauze and tape. Then she went about bandaging up my hands, which I hadn’t even realized were torn up and bloody. Especially the knuckles.
She worked silently, and when Deacon came in with the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, she took them from him, poured a shot, and looked at me, then downed it herself. Then she poured a second, glared at me again, and sank it too.
Handing the whiskey back to Deacon, she went back to work silently, and Deacon shrugged and took the bottle away. I was tempted to call after him but didn’t want to interrupt Lauren or cause a problem bigger than I had. I didn’t feel bad about what I had done, but I was looking forward to talking to her once she was done.
When she felt like she was finished, she tossed the towel down in the sink and stood up in a huff, walking away silently. Deacon snuck his head back in and looked back at her before coming in with a full shot glass. My eyes were still on Lauren, though, and I shook my head. Shrugging, Deacon downed the shot and sat down beside me.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, patting my knee, which I only realized in that moment was extremely sore. “Just give her a few…” He looked back at her as she slumped into her seat and went to typing at her laptop. “Months.”
24
LAUREN
Tossing the last of my dirty towels into the washing machine, I dropped the lid down and pressed the start button. Letting out a breath, I scooped the basket of laundry fresh out of the dryer up and balanced it on my hip as I made my way down the hallway to the living room so I could fold them.
One of these days, I was going to have an actual laundry room rather than the little closet in the hallway between my kitchen and bedroom. Those accordion doors were not enough to make them blend in. And I would really like to have enough space near my washer and dryer to fold the clothes after they were finished.
It was the simple things in life.
Still pondering my great aspirations, which also included a refrigerator that had an ice machine and a handheld showerhead in my shower, I put my laundry basket on the coffee table and plopped down on the couch to start folding. I’d gotten through the challenge of reducing my fitted sheet to a neat square and was about to tackle the staticky blanket usually folded at the end of my bed when my doorbell rang.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, but a few of my neighbors had the habit of coming by with baked goods or leftovers. It was one of the benefits of living in an apartment complex predominantly occupied by older adults still trying to get accustomed to not having a gaggle of children to cook for. I’d had more than a few fantastic conversations over banana nut muffins or amazing lasagna.
It had been a long time since I had grandparents of my own. These people helped me feel like I still had an extended family.
When I got to the door, I still peered out through the peephole and saw it wasn’t any of my adorable neighbors come to bestow something delicious on me. Instead, Carter stared at the peephole like he knew I was looking at him and wanted me to see how serious his expression was.