Yeah. Well, I believe it. I’m so unlucky my bad luck spills over to those near me. I get them hurt.
Shane, my cousin and half-brother, thinks he’s bad luck, which is why he chooses to live on his own.
I know I’m bad luck.
See the difference?
She hands me the stick. “We need to get you off the street.”
Makes sense. With the way things are going tonight, baiting luck isn’t wise. What if another car passes by and kills us both?
Two men arrive, asking if we need a hand, and I gratefully accept their help. Not sure she can take my weight, anyway—she’s only, like, five feet five to my six feet —and with the way my leg feels right now, I doubt the stick will be much help.
The two men help me hobble back to the sidewalk, and by then my leg is on fire. Let’s not even talk about my stinging elbows and hands. At least, the cold of the rain is numbing the scratches, cooling the fire.
I thank the guys and they go their way, but she hovers, water streaming down her face. It plasters her dress to her body in a very distracting way, and even through the haze of pain I can’t help looking.
Good thing the pain keeps my dick in check, or this could get awkward. More awkward, that is.
I mean, this is the girl I’ve wanted for ages, but can’t have.
Because she’s with someone. I not only saw her status on Facebook—‘in a relationship’—I fucking saw her with him, holding hands, laughing over something he said. Someone who’s better than me, I bet, someone smarter, richer, with good prospects.
F
uck.
Meanwhile, the rain is still falling, and I’m shivering—with shock more than cold, I guess. Trudging back home like this will be a bitch, but hey, I’ve had worse.
“Hey, wait!” She blocks my way when I turn to go. “You can’t. I mean, it’s my fault you fell, and I…” She frowns. “Don’t I know you?”
“That’s a good pick-up line, you know.”
“What?” Her brows arch, then she frowns again. “I wasn’t… Oh crap. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
What the hell am I doing? I’m being an asshole when she’s trying to be nice. “I was just screwing with you,” I mutter. “I’m friends with Micah. Evangeline’s boyfriend?”
“Oh, right.” She looks uncertain again. I bet she can’t remember my name or where she’s seen me to save her life. “Can I offer you a ride home? It’s the least I can do. Or maybe the hospital?” She glances at my walking stick. “To get yourself checked out?”
“No, no hospitals.” I shudder. “I’m all right, really. Just need to pop a few painkillers and warm up. My place ain’t far.”
And oh fuck, going up those stairs will probably kill me. Not to mention I never got around to buying those painkillers in the first place, and there’s nothing at home to get me through the night, not even booze.
At least I wasn’t run over. Small mercies. I’m like a cat with nine lives, but even I would have trouble ungluing my flattened self from the asphalt.
“You sure?”
Oh yeah, so sure. Sure I can’t go home like this.
I pull my cell from my pocket, thinking to call Shane or Jesse, ask them if I can crash at their place tonight, but the damn phone looks dead. “Shit!”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” I shove my cell back into my pocket. I’m shivering harder now in my drenched T-shirt and pants, and I clench my fingers on the handle of the stick. “Mind if I use your phone to call someone to pick me up?”
“Your leg.” She’s giving me a serious look, and fuck it’s hot. “What happened?”
“Broke it.”