31. Jeremy
Chapter thirty-one
Jeremy
Having a sprained groin is a lot worse than a person could imagine.
For one, it’s hard to explain without people giving me weird looks, and for two, regular sprained limbs can be immobilized.
The groin, I discover, gets involved with every fucking move of the body, from turning over in bed to shitting.
My crutch slips as I try to lock it under my armpit in preparation to stand. I sink toward my bad side, sending pain blazing through my leg. “Fuck!”
The door to my hospital room swings open.
“You look like happy camper,” Joel announces much too cheerily. “Ready to go home?”
“You try sticking a fireball deep under your hip and see how you like it.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “Can’t be that bad. You’ve had worse.”
I stare at him, balanced awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Tell me. Are you secretly a sadist? Did I miss the signs all this time?”
This time his laugh rings out loudly. “No, no. Sorry, bro.” He’s grinning too widely for that apology to count. “How can I help?”
“Just get me out of here,” I grumble.
“Righto.” He busies himself getting my phone and charger packed up, along with the handful of clothes he brought yesterday.
I study my brother as he moves around. “Thanks for the new hat.”
“It’s nothing.” He twitches but doesn’t face me. “Not like you could keep wearing the old one.”
He doesn’t say it, but we’re both thinking of how the battered old thing symbolizes my brush with death. Maybe he’s acting partly out of guilt, but at the same time, it’s so nice to have my twin back in my life.
When I pop the new hat on, it fits my head perfectly, the firm touch on my hair soothing and familiar. Then I get the crutch under my armpit and ease myself upright.
“How’s your business?” I ask to distract from the pain coursing deep beside my dick.
“They’ll survive.” He sneaks an assessing look my way. “Got a few things tidied up and sorted.”
“Good.” Sweat tickles my forehead as I take a few experimental limps toward the entrance. Not my favorite mode of transport, but at least I’m moving.
Joel skirts around me and holds the door open, my backpack dangling off one shoulder. “I told them I’ll be away for a few more days. Gotta take care of my invalid brother and all that.”
I glare at him and he smiles innocently. “What? Can you even piss by yourself?”
“I can manage that much,” I growl out.
“Okay, okay. Don’t bite my head off.”
My regular nurse walks by. “Heading out, Mr Williams? Good luck with it all.”
I salute her. “Thanks, Esther! Good luck with the baby.”
“Thanks!” She pats her mildly rounded stomach and trots off back the way we came.
Joel watches her go, brows knitting together. “You into her, man?”
“What? No, we just got to know each other.”
He smirks. “By holding your dick while you pissed?”
I smack his shoulder, almost overbalancing on my crutches. I hop in place until he laughs and grabs my arm to steady me.
“Easy now. You only just got your learner’s permit for those.”
I stick my tongue out at him, feeling childish but oddly enjoying it. Like we’ve regressed to a happier time. If all it took was his lady, or ex lady, throwing him out, I wish it had happened a lot sooner. Which makes me a terrible brother.
“How are things with . . . your ex?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. I’m avoiding all contact. She’s stopped trying to call every five minutes. I got some hate messages from our circle.” He shakes his head and corrects himself. “Her circle, rather.”
“Cheer, up. You’ve got me, and you know I don’t text that often.”
He arches his brows and scans me up and down. “And look at the state you’re in.”
I grin and stump forward faster, calling over my shoulder, “Still better than them, right?”
The hospital’s automatic doors glide open, and I limp outside, lifting my nose for fresh air.
Which isn’t fresh at all because we’re in a metropolis of over eight million people and a handful of them are smoking right outside the door.
Still, better than breathing recycled air that’s had the life filtered out of it.
Joel walks by me, swinging his car keys. “Want me to put the car windows down so you can stick your head out?”
“You missed your calling as a comedian.” I roll my eyes and swing my body after him, getting the hang of my crutches now that I’m not negotiating tight spaces. Plus, people move out of my way, which is nice.
Loading into his van takes some time and I hiss with each movement as I get my ass on the front passenger seat. For once he doesn’t crack jokes, just pops my crutches in the back and passes me the seatbelt.
As we drive out of the huge multi-story parking lot, he asks if I want to stop by anywhere.
“Don’t suppose we can go visit Willow?”
“To pick up your car?”
“Yeah.”
He throws me an exasperated look. “Can you even drive right now?”
I purse my lips and stare out the window. “She has my bags as well.”
“Dude, you can barely sit. I get that you want to see her, but how about you wait a couple of days until you aren’t wincing with pain every other minute. You’re only gonna make her feel guilty and anxious like that.”
I lean my elbow on the windowsill and grunt.
“I promise I’ll take you around just as soon as you can drive.”
Why does he have to be right? I really want to see her. But maybe if there is something in my bags I need, I can make up a reason to see the omega before I’m up to driving.
“Better stop by the Heat Wave clinic. They’ve got some worker’s comp forms for me.”
“Okay, where is it?”
I give him the directions and then lean back, bracing my body between the door and center console to minimize my movement around corners. I know Joel’s driving more carefully than normal, but the bumps still set my teeth on edge.
When we pull into the parking lot, he gets my crutches out and opens my door. “You’re treating me better than your girlfriends,” I tease.
His eyes get all sad.
“It was a joke,” I tell him. “A bad one. You were a great boyfriend, most of the time.” Which was true. He puts in lots of effort in private.
“I think I should go in alone,” I tell him to change the subject.
“Definitely not. If you fall, you’ll end up breaking your hip. Then we’re both up for endless therapy.”
I snort and lever my ass off the seat. The crutch padding digs into my underarms.
“Self-preservation, is it?” I ask with a grin.
“Totally.” He slaps the brim of my hat and closes the door behind me. “Now lead the way, stumpy.”
I groan and reposition my hat before lurching forward.
The clinic looms above us, casting a long shadow over the parking lot.
A faint chill settles in my soul that has nothing to do with the lighting.
Employers don’t like workers on compensation.
At best, they’ll shorten my contract. And at worst, they’ll think I’m faking it.
Maybe my grouchiness this morning isn’t all about pain—or at least not the one in my groin.
The fear of either outcome settles like rocks in my belly.
Joel whistles. He stands in the foyer, hands in his pockets staring around at the tasteful gilt and modern décor.
“Looks a bit fancy,” he mutters when he catches me staring. “High end.”
I smile but don’t get a chance to answer.
“Jeremy?” Debbie throws her hands up with a gasp. “What are you doing here?”
She bustles out from behind the desk.
I put on a floppy smile. “The boss said I had some forms to sign.”
“Yes, but gosh, we didn’t think you’d be in for another week. Do you want to sit, or . . .?” She casts around, frowning at the low lounges. “An office chair, perhaps?”
“I think I’ll just lean on the counter, if that’s okay?”
“Lean all you like!” She bustles behind the desk. “I put the forms away because I didn’t think we’d see you so soon. How diligent.”
She slides a folder across the bench and stacks a pen on top. “Okay, we have the compensation claim, make sure the details are correct on that one. Underneath is your application for sick leave.”
A weird stinging sensation burns behind my eyes as I read and sign.
I’m dying to ask how this is going to affect my employment, but at the same time, the thought of joining some other omega for her heat makes me feel ill.
Maybe that’s just the medication. This is the job I signed up for, right?
Maybe if they fire me for being clumsy, I won’t have to sleep with someone else.
But then I don’t have an excuse to see Willow again.
“Oh, that reminds me.” Debbie checks her computer. “Did you bring your Heat Wave tablet back?”
I shake my head. “It’s still at Will—the omega’s—house.”
“Oh, that makes sense. I can send someone over to collect it.”
My pulse jumps in my throat. “Um, if it’s okay to wait a day or two, I’m happy to pick it up.”
A small line forms between her brows and the rocks in my stomach grow bigger.
Joel steps up beside me. “His truck’s still there.”
The woman’s gaze swivels to Joel.
“This is my brother,” I say. “He’s looking after me while I’m . . .” I lift my arms and glance down, grabbing the crutches before they fall.
Debbie smiles. “Okay, well that’s a plan, then, so long as you’re sure you’re up for it. If you need, one of us can collect your truck. If you can’t drive?”
“No, no.” I flash her my most reassuring smile. “I’m sure I can manage that in the next couple of days.” No way in hell am I letting someone else do the follow up.
As we’re about to leave, the Human Resources director comes out of the elevator. “Jeremy!” he calls, waving. “Good to see you up and about.” He points at my crutches. “Well, more or less. How are you feeling?”
“Like someone buried a live wire in my hip.”
He winces. “Geez. I can’t even imagine. Hey, next time you’re coming in, let me know and we’ll have a chat about your future.”
There it is. The impending end of a great thing. “All right. I’ll let you know.”
“Great.” He introduces himself to Joel and then checks his watch. “I’ve got a meeting, but all the best with your recovery. Don’t overdo things, yeah?”
Polite, sure, but hard to know if he thinks I’m a nuisance or not.
We head out, a copy of my documents under Joel’s arm. My brother stays quiet as he waits for me to lever myself into the van’s passenger seat and then takes my crutches.
The vehicle rocks as he gets in. Keys jingle, but he sits back after inserting it into the ignition. “You really like this omega, huh?”
I turn to meet his thoughtful gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
One corner of his mouth twitches. “At first, I thought it was just the pheromones and the post-heat high. But back in there, I saw something else.” He sets both hands on the wheel and leans forward, still looking at me. “So, what happens when you have to go back to work fucking other omegas?”
I stare out the window at the big building. Two ladies stroll toward the entrance, one towing a suitcase. Dozens of omegas walk through those doors every week, and it’ll be my job to help them.
“Well, I probably won’t have a job after this. You know my luck.”
His smile turns sad. “Bro, I think those people in there really care about you. They didn’t seem hostile at all.” He turns the ignition, waking the engine. “But hey, maybe you’re right.”
If I’m right, I’ll be jobless again. If I’m wrong . . . for the first time in my life, I think I’d prefer to get fired.