“Baby.” His voice sounded the same, strong even though the rest of him was weak. “I can do it.”
I turned back to him.
He rolled over onto his side, groaning as he pressed his flattened palms against the floor and started to raise himself, moving slowly because that was all he could do.
I hooked my arm under his shoulder and helped him to his feet.
He was shaky, his palm pressing against the wall for balance. He closed his eyes for an instant, grimacing through the pain.
“Damien, get his other arm.”
Heath turned to the exit of the cage. “I don’t need his help…” He moved forward, breathing hard as he forced his body to obey his commands.
Damien stood there, furious.
I helped Heath right past my brother, ignoring the rage on his face.
My brother didn’t try to stop me.
I stopped at the stairs. “It’s a long climb.”
“I got it. Go in front.” He gripped the railing and breathed hard.
I went first.
It took him a long time, but he pulled himself to the top, taking many breaks because his body was in awful shape.
Seeing him look so terrible killed me, ripped my heart into so many pieces, I could never put them back together.
When he reached the top, I grabbed his arm and directed him toward the entryway.
Patricia stepped out of the kitchen but halted when she saw him.
He winked at her and kept walking.
I opened the front door so he could get through. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No.” He stepped into the sunlight, his injuries looking worse. “Just get me home.”
“You are in no shape—”
“Call Balto.” He moved down the steps to my car at the curb.
I wanted to argue, but it took him so much effort to speak that I didn’t want him to waste any energy on arguing with me, force his body to endure more pain just to repeat what he’d already asked for. “Alright.” I opened the door for him so he could collapse into the passenger seat, immediately closing his eyes like he couldn’t do any more than that.
I got behind the wheel and pulled out my phone. “I don’t have his number…”
He took the phone, dialed the number, and hit send.
I started the car and drove, the call coming through the speakerphone.
Balto answered after a few rings, sounding just like Heath. “Yes?”
“It’s Catalina.” I spoke through my tears, turning down the streets as I made my way to his house. “I’ve got Heath… He’s hurt really bad. He told me to call you. I don’t know what to do. He told me to drive him home—”
“I’ll meet you there.” He didn’t ask any questions or show any sign of panic. “Pull into the garage.”
I’d barely turned the engine off when Balto pulled the door open. Like one soldier picking up another, he pulled Heath’s arm over his shoulder and lifted him from the seat, lifting his own body weight like it was no big deal.
I’d never seen Heath like that, and it broke my heart. He allowed someone to carry him completely, because he couldn’t do it himself. It was a weakness I didn’t think was possible, not after all the strength he’d shown me.
Balto carried him up the flights of stairs then down the hallway, delivering him to his bedroom.
I was close behind.
Balto gently placed him on the bed, guiding him backward until he landed softly against the mattress. “I’ve got meds in the car. I’ll be right back.”
I stood over Heath, seeing him lie there with his eyes closed, like he was already dead.
“Oh my god…” I placed my hands over my face, unable to suffer this reality, unable to deal with this cruelty.
Balto returned and dumped his bag on the dresser. Like he was a doctor who knew what he was doing, he opened bottles and dropped pills onto the counter. He even had an IV bag along with an extendable pole. “I’ve got our doctor on the way. But this will tide you over.” He opened a bottle of water then helped him take the pills. Then he set up the IV, finding a vein and inserting it before he got the saline going. “Just give it a few minutes, you’ll feel better.”
Heath kept his eyes closed, lifeless.
“Fuck, is he going to be okay?” I whispered through my sobs.
Balto didn’t look at me. “Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
He turned to me as he rolled the pole next to his bed. “Because he has something live for.”
I sat on the couch in the living room because I didn’t want to sit there and stare at Heath’s broken body. I didn’t want to watch the doctor examine him and describe his injuries, describe his pain.
It was too fucking much.
Balto came back into the living room.
“How is he?” I whispered.
“He’s going to be asleep for a while, which is a good thing. He’s got enough painkillers to keep him comfortable and to get through the night. The next few days will be rough for him, but we’ve got good shit for him.”
My cheek was pressed into my palm, my eyes down.
“His ribs are broken, his shoulder popped out of the socket, but we popped it back in…”
I shut my eyes tight.
Balto seemed to understand how sick it made me, so he stopped with the details. “But nothing life-threatening. He’ll just need some time to get back on his feet…and some help.”
“I can do it.” I opened my eyes again, my cheeks soaked with my tears.
He sat on the other couch, his elbows on his knees as he stared at me.
“I’ll take care of him.” I didn’t feel obligated because it was my fault. I just wanted to do it, to make sure Heath could relax and not worry about anything as he put himself back together.
“Do I need to worry about Damien?”
I turned to him, my lungs aching. My brother was the last thing on my mind right now. “No…he let me
