Forsaken (The Protectors 4)

“Can you stand?”

Another nod and then Eli used the back of his left hand to wipe at his tears. But when I reached for his right arm to pull him to his feet, he let out a harsh cry and grabbed his wrist with his free hand.

“Okay, okay,” I said softly as I watched fresh tears fall. I studied the wrist Eli was protecting and saw that it was already swelling. “Eli, can you move your fingers on this hand?” I asked as I pointed to his injured arm.

Eli hesitated and then carefully tested each finger. Pain was written in every line of his face and harsh breaths were seesawing in and out of him. “Yeah,” he finally managed to say. “I think it’s just sprained,” he added between clenched teeth.

“I’m going to help you stand, okay? We’ll take it nice and slow.”

Another unsteady nod. I reached out for Eli’s uninjured arm and supported his weight as I carefully lifted him to his feet. The younger man leaned back against the wall as he tried to catch his breath and I kept my hand on his elbow to steady him. “Can you make it back up the stairs?”

It took Eli a moment to slow his breathing enough to talk. “My…my car’s parked on this level,” he said with a nod to the door leading to the parking area.

“Eli, you need to have someone take a look at your injuries.” Despite it being a children’s hospital, I doubted they’d turn Eli away. At worst, they’d arrange for him to be transported down the block to the general hospital.

“No,” Eli murmured and then he pulled himself upright. “I’m okay.”

“Eli-”

“Thank you,” Eli said as he carefully pulled free of my hold and stepped around me. He used his uninjured hand to open the heavy door and I quickly grabbed it from him. He mumbled another thank you and then began walking towards a darkened corner of the garage. I scanned our surroundings as I easily caught up to Eli and carefully drew him to a stop by putting my hand on his uninjured arm.

“Eli, talk to me. Who did this?”

But Eli just shook his head and tried to step past me.

“Was it an ex or something?” I asked.

Eli didn’t seem surprised or annoyed that I was making the assumption that he was gay. “Can you just let me go, please?” he whispered and I could tell he was on the verge of crying again. He tried to tug his arm free of my grip, but I maintained my hold on him. I ignored the zaps of electricity that were firing through the pads of my fingers and up my entire arm.

“At least let me call someone for you,” I offered. “Your family. A friend.”

I expected him to mull my suggestion over or at least tell me no, but instead his entire countenance fell and then more tears began silently slipping down his face. I felt an unexpected ache in my chest at how lost and broken he looked and I struggled to find the right words to say. But nothing came to me and I knew it was because that kind of bone deep pain couldn’t be taken away with a few carefully chosen words. Whatever Eli was going through inside was so much worse than the beating his body had taken.

I felt my skin itch as the overwhelming urge to escape hit me. Give me a gun or a knife and I was an unstoppable force. Hell, even with just my hands, I could take on anything thrown my way. But this…fuck, I wasn’t equipped to give the young man in front of me what he needed. I wasn’t wired that way…not anymore. But as Eli tried to move past me once again, I tightened my grip on him and drew him forward instead. He was stiff against me at first, but the second I pressed my hand against the small of his back to keep him from moving away, he let out a broken sob and dropped his forehead on my chest and began sobbing in earnest. I was careful not to put any pressure on his injured arm as I pulled him in even closer.

I didn’t say anything as his tears soaked my shirt and before I could stop myself, I lowered my head and let my lips skim his temple. I was right about him being slight because even with my loose hold on him, he felt so very breakable. I had a good six inches on him at least and while he wasn’t actually bony, my guess was that I outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. I used my free hand to test the softness of his coal-black hair and I marveled at the curls that shifted beneath my fingers.