Page 117 of Chasing Headlines
Chapter Thirty-One
Breslin POV
A short time later, in the parking lot . . .
Everything hurt—my lungs, my jaw. Pain buzzed around my head. Every muscle stung and throbbed. An itchy patch on my forehead. Skin wasn't there. Just ooze on my fingers and stabbing behind my eyes. I tried to sit up, but moving my head split it into sections. I didn't know 'up'.
Just rapid grunting breaths and some garbled words I didn't understand. I just wanted to sleep.
Light glared, then fell away. There was motion, I was moving. Then it all stopped. Wavered, shook. The sound of an engine fading in the distance.
“Stop bleeding all over my truck, pendejo.”
A blurry man grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me into chilled night air. It stabbed icy fingers into a stinging warmth on my forehead.
Pinpricks of light slurred across my vision. A door opened. A gasp. More words I didn't recognize. Then I was flying, tripping, stumbling. I laid on my back while a hammer pounded on my brain.
Hazel eyes stared at me and then faded. Icy, biting, knee-jerking cold pressed into my face. I thrashed, but it remained fixed against my skin. Knitted itself into my forehead. Eased away.
“You drunk hijo de la gran puta. I thought you were dead,” said a voice I knew, and had heard a thousand times.
“Let me finish stitching. You're in the light. Back away.”
“Mireina, your doctor thing is so sexy in action.”
“Stop. We'll need to test him for a concussion. This lump's pretty bad.”
“I amnotwatching his feo culo all night.” The voice grumbled.
My eyes sewed themselves shut, and wanted to stay that way. But fingers that weren't mine pried them apart. Light seared into my brain. I tried to shrink away. Sleep. Soft, beautiful sleep—with warm arms . . .
Pat pat pat. An insistent, irregular rhythm beat against one side of my face. I couldn't make it stop. I tried to push it away.
“Coop, come on. Hey.” A soft, sweet hum vibrated inside my chest. I frowned and lifted my hand. But it met soft skin. Fingers, a palm, pressed against mine. I whimpered. Why couldn't they leave me alone?
“Hey, tough guys don't whine. I need you to sit up,” the voice said.Hervoice. “If you don't, Hilda's going to make Antonio take you to . . .”
Her voice faded out.
More patting. A shake. “Coop, come on. You'll miss the game.”
Game?Baseball. I lifted pounds of eyelids. Blinked sore, bleary eyes. A girl, woman, with hazy features and a furrowed brow stared into me. Her skin and golden hair glowed.
Glossy pink lips parted. The things were mesmerizing—thick and perfect and like they'd taste . . . so sweet. My heart thumped hard and loud. I hoped to God she was here to kiss me.
“Coop?” The word puckered her lips. My hand closed around her fingers. I used the connection to pull her closer.
“. . . probably have a concussion.” Her free hand pushed against the aching muscles of my shoulder. “We've got to keep you awake?—”
I groaned.If I could just pull her into my lap.
“You ok? Where's it hurt? Do you need me to get Hilda?”
Who are you?I wanted to ask. My brain was empty, offline. Nothing existed before this moment. “You should kiss me. I'm injured.”
Her eyes widened and she flushed a deep pinkish-purple color. She glanced down at our hands, folded together in my lap, and it was like someone lit a fire under her. She twisted and shook, trying to pull away. Pain marched through mushy parts of my brain, and I had to let her go.
I’m going to kiss her.The thought made me smile amidst the pain.