Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(68)

If CJ had been in danger of dying, Piper would’ve told him. He knew that. The sun would come up tomorrow. The sun would also go down tomorrow. And Piper would never lie to him. These things he knew for sure. His sister did the right thing, always. Never the easy thing.

So . . . why wouldn’t CJ answer?

Maybe Gavin had gotten too close too fast for comfort, and he’d spooked the guy. That he could deal with. What he couldn’t deal with was losing him.

Shit. He had to make sure he was going to be okay. He had to see it for himself. He simply couldn’t breathe until he knew. Which meant, as it turned out, there really were several layers of stupid. Sending a silent apology to Piper, he grabbed Winnie’s keys and headed out. He was banking on the knowledge that CJ hated hospitals and would never stay one minute longer than he had to. And honestly, unless he’d been shot in the mouth, he’d have demanded to be let go, AMA or not.

He found himself in CJ’s driveway without remembering the trip. Because everything he feared—the helplessness, the not knowing, the gut-wrenching certainty that life was too fucking short, knowing he could lose someone he loved in the blink of an eye—it was all back with a vengeance.

There were lights on inside, but CJ didn’t answer the door. Gavin didn’t grapple with his admittedly loose morals. He broke in. The living room was empty, but there were discarded boots on the floor near the entry, and just beyond that, a shirt with blood on it.

Gavin’s own blood froze. He could hear swearing from farther inside. Reassured by that, he moved toward it.

He located CJ in the bathroom, stripped down to a pair of jeans resting dangerously low on his hips. He was leaning heavily on the counter while trying to twist to see his back in the mirror. He had gauze bandages in front and back, both bloodstained, and he appeared to be trying to cover the whole thing with Saran Wrap, presumably so he could get into the shower.

Gavin stepped into the room, shoved CJ’s hands clear, and took over the task. “How bad?”

“It’s not,” CJ said through teeth gritted in pain.

Tough guy. Normally, Gavin loved that, but now he just shook his head. “You sent me to voice mail and ignored my texts.”

“Wasn’t ignoring you.”

“What then?”

“Didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Too late.” Gavin pressed his forehead to CJ’s. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” CJ asked.

“If you are.”

CJ let out a rough breath. “I will be.”

“Are you even allowed to shower?”

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“Me, if it’s against medical advice.” Which he suspected it was. CJ was trembling, so he pressed up against him, bracing him against the counter. “You’re bleeding through,” he said quietly.

“I’ll change the bandages after the shower.”

Gavin didn’t bother arguing with the guy, because next to himself, there was no one more stubborn on the entire planet than CJ. So he finished covering the gunshot wound—just thinking those two words made him woozy—and turned on the shower. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped CJ’s jeans and pushed them off.

“Usually I get dinner first,” CJ muttered, but he was ashen and propped up against the counter, all talk and no go. Gavin shook his head at him and then quietly and quickly stripped himself as well.

CJ did a slow body scan, showing more life than he had a moment ago.

“Hold that thought,” Gavin said, and got them both into the shower, where he washed CJ down with warm water and soap until the water stopped running pink. After, he gently toweled CJ dry and pointed to the bed.

Pale now and trembling like a leaf from the exertion, CJ climbed in and closed his eyes. “Don’t get used to calling the shots.”

Gavin huffed out a laugh at the sly reference to their sex life, in which CJ was almost always the aggressor. “I don’t know, man, I’m kinda liking this new meekness from you.”

Without moving anything but his hand, not even opening his eyes, CJ flipped him off.

Gavin went back to the living room to find what he was looking for. Near where CJ had tossed his keys was a pharmacy bag with meds. And a leather bracelet that Gavin recognized. He’d given it to CJ a whole bunch of years ago. Picking it up, he rolled it between his fingers, memories slamming into him.

They’d been at the carnival the summer after ninth grade. He’d won the bracelet at some stupid darts game and CJ had put it on. Said he’d never take it off.

Gavin took it and the pills, along with a bottle of water, back to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he waited.

CJ opened his eyes, looked at the leather band, then closed his eyes again.

“You kept it,” Gavin said quietly.

“It meant something to me.” CJ swallowed and Gavin watched his Adam’s apple bounce. “I had put it back on after the other night.”

At that, it was Gavin’s turn to swallow hard. CJ was no longer the same boy he’d loved, but a grown man and a hell of a lot more honest about his feelings than Gavin could ever hope to be.

“They made me take it off again at the hospital,” CJ said. “I can’t put it back on until the abrasions on my wrists heal.”

Gavin eyed CJ’s wrists, which were bruised and cut up, probably from where he’d fallen after getting shot. So he put the bracelet on himself. CJ watched, his mouth slightly curved like he was amused at both of their stupidly sentimental asses.