Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

instead.
    "Who the hell… who the… what the hell… what are you doing here?" Scott's eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping to the floor when his mind wrapped around the fact it was Devon who stood on the steps. He quickly blocked the doorway, widening his stance to make it appear he was more confident than he actually was. He peered more closely at Devon. "What the hell happened to you? Were you in a fight?"
    "Mild disagreement. Couldn't think of anywhere else to go."
    Scott didn't know what to say, so rather than wracking his mind for nonsense or even sense, he ushered Devon inside. Blood covered one side of Devon's thin t-shirt, the trail leading up to his nose and mouth. One of his eyes was already beginning to puff up and darken, his nose was red, and a still-oozing cut sliced through the left side of his bottom lip.
    "You look like hell," Scott said, after Devon had toed off his shoes and slouched his way into the kitchen.
    "Bet that feels good to say, huh?" Devon grinned then winced, throwing himself into a chair, body leaned forward, hands rubbing at the sides of his head.
    Scott ran cold water over a clean cloth, wrung it out, and tread cautiously toward Devon, like prey approaching a wounded lion. "Did you get hit in the head, too?"
    "Might have whacked it when I fell. You're acting like I'm going to bite you, Scott."
    "You have to admit it's a little weird."
    Devon leaned back in his chair, head tipped up to meet Scott's eyes. "What is?"
    Scott snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Just everything."
    "I'm sorry—"
    "Let's not get into that again. Hold still, I'm going to clean you up."
    He swiped the cloth over Devon's face, being extra careful when he reached Devon's nose and lips. Dark blood stained the cloth, but the cut seemed to have stopped bleeding. He held it a bit longer to Devon's mouth while using his other hand to feel along the contours of Devon's skull.
    "You've got a bit of a bump but it's not huge. Are you dizzy?" He moved the cloth away, one hand on his hip as he frowned at Devon.
    Devon shrugged. "Just a little."
    "Yet you rode your bike here? Smart, Devon, real smart."
    "Took a cab."
    Scott moved back to the sink, rinsing out the cloth before handing it to Devon. "Your lip looks better but you might wanna hold this on it a bit longer. So who hit you?"
    "Shadow."
    Scott wracked his brain for the name. "The one whose wife just died?"
    Devon nodded, hanging his head, eyes focused on his socks.
    "You had a fight with someone who just lost a loved one? What the hell, Devon?"
    "I never said I fought back. Maybe I should just go."
    With a grunt, Devon started to rise from his chair before Scott stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why did you come, Dev?"
    Devon stayed where he was, his body unslouching, sad brown eyes gazing into Scott's. "I missed you. I wanted to see if we could… if I could—"
    Scott let his hand slide down Devon's arm. "That boat sailed. Well, sunk is more like it."
    "Then why did you come to see me last weekend?"
    Fuck. Who was the snitch? Marshall? Charlene? Dammit, he thought he'd got away free and clear from his embarrassing visit to Devon. "I was just… I wanted…"
    Devon seemed to wobble a bit in the chair, Scott grabbing his shoulder before he tipped to the floor. "I think I need to lie down."
    Scott managed to get Devon's partially boneless body to his bedroom before Devon passed out completely. He laid a hand on Devon's sweaty brow, checking for a fever, but Devon was no warmer than usual. Placing the wet cloth he'd saved from falling to the ground on Devon's forehead, Scott sat on the edge of the bed. Scott reached for his cell phone on the nightstand, but then changed his mind.
    Unfortunately, he knew a little about concussions from personal experience as a bullied teen. He'd been laid out on the ground more than once, his mother having to come and get him before shuffling him off to the hospital. Such wonderful childhood memories—not. One of the things he did know was there was nothing to be done for a concussion except watch the concussing person for any changing symptoms. That meant he was stuck with Devon for a while; watching him as long as he slept, something Scott was quite accustomed to doing, or at least he had been.
    Devon didn't stay out for long. "Scott?" he said, voice as wary as the confusion in his eyes. "What am I… what happened?"
    "Just relax. You'll be fine."
    "I should go?"
    A question rather than a statement, Scott didn't even pause