Page 133 of Full Body Hit, Part 1

He eyed the Omega, surprised that his scent wasn’t acrid with pain. Jesus, how fucking good was this kid at keeping his scent in check?

He got snagged on the thought, something niggling at the back of his mind, squirming too quickly for him to catch.

Noah drove smoothly, parking the car outside Auston’s apartment building. Sammy was waiting by the front door, hurrying to Chase’s side, and they all went up, Auston refusing Noah’s help.

He had his damn crutches. He was fine.

They kept the lights low even when they entered into the apartment, and Auston lead the procession to one of the guest rooms.

Sammy helped Chase to the bed. He glanced at Auston and Noah, tilting his chin in a shooing motion. “Can you give us a sec? I wanna help him change.”

Auston nodded, retreating to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” he offered Noah to be polite.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Sammy came out a couple of minutes later, mouth pulled into a thin line. “Thanks for looking after him,” he said, but his voice was flat, devoid of any actual gratitude.

Auston was too tired to dissect that. The pain meds were getting to his head. He just wanted to go to bed and pass out. “Yeah, no worries.”

Sammy shifted from one foot to another, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but he just nodded.

Noah looked between them. “Okay. We’ll get out of your hair, I guess.”

“Sure,” Auston agreed.

Sammy paused by the entrance. “Update me tomorrow on how he’s doing, yeah? He won’t be able to use his phone for a while. And…just, you know. Try not to…just be gentle with him. Please.”

Auston frowned. What the fuck did Sammy think Auston was gonna do? Scream at the kid for having a concussion?

Whatever. He didn’t have the strength to argue. “Sure.”

With that, the two disappeared, leaving the apartment dark and silent.

Auston shuffled back to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water and leaving one behind. He took the other to the guest room, crutch under the opposite armpit. He knocked perfunctorily on the cracked-open door. “Got you some water,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” the kid replied.

Auston blinked. “For what?”

“For…sorry for making you take care of me.”

Auston set the glass on the bedside table. A strip of light fell on the bed, just barely illuminating the grimace on Chase’s face, the way he was curled up and so, so small.

Something strange gripped his guts, squeezing them, digging in. “You don’t have to apologise. It’s not a problem,” he assured even though the first emotion that had flared up when he heard he’d have to babysit the kid had been annoyance.

Chase made an uncertain sound but said, “Thanks. I, um. I like the picture on the wall.”

Auston turned to look at the blown-up photo of one of his cup wins, him holding the trophy over his head, face split in the widest smile he’d ever sported.

How the fuck the kid could see it in the low light with his concussion was a goddamn mystery.

“Oh, thanks. That was…my tenth year I think.” He’d won in back-to-back years, so the memories were a little mixed up.

“No, that was your eleventh,” Chase mumbled.

Auston whipped his head to the side, then back to the picture. Shit, the kid was right. “Oh, yeah. How the hell’d you know that?”

Chase let out a distant, breathy laugh, pain meds and concussion obviously making him hazy. “I was like your biggest fan,” he whispered, the edges of his words slurring. “You were my favourite player. Was so…so excited when I…” he trailed off, apparently falling asleep, leaving Auston wondering what he’d been so excited about.