#Junkie (GearShark #1)(89)

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 f*cking 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.