Summer's Last Breath

Part 9

The Jacobs's house was what you'd call "Old Florida" style. Built of mostly cinder blocks and painted white, it was nestled on a small stretch of government-owned beach. The oyster shell driveway crunched under my tires and wound its way through a thick stand of scrub oaks and long-needle pines.


When we pulled up to the house it was after midnight, and I didn't know whether Jamie had been watching for us or it was coincidence he came out of the house as soon as the Tahoe's headlights swiped across the door. Shirtless and only wearing a pair of gym shorts, he strode straight for the driver's side door. I rolled down the window, and his hands fell over the door as his eyes took me in with a quick sweep before gravitating toward Noah.


"What the hell happened to you?" he asked. Noah wiped a dribble of blood from his swollen lip. 


"Jax had a run in with a gator," Noah said, staring at the blood on his hand. 


"What?" The muscles in Jamie's chest constricted as his grip tightened around the door. "A gator did that?"


After several beats of silence from the passenger seat, I said, "No. Noah saved Jax from an alligator. We were at the hospital. The busted lip was Derrick and Tyler." 


"You okay?" Jamie's tone lost its initial gruffness.


Noah ignored him, and instead of answering, he reached for the door handle and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.


Voice pitched low, Jamie asked me, "Is he okay?"


"Yeah, I think so." I watched Noah through the windshield. He stopped on the other side of the hood, right in the beam of the headlights, and I saw what I'd missed in the dark. Blood soaked his shirt and underneath a rip, I could just make out the jagged red flesh of his stomach. He'd told me it was just a scratch.


"Don't tell Mom," Noah said, and he swayed a little in Jamie's direction. Jamie's hands slipped from the door as he walked over to Noah and lifted his shirt. I gasped.


"Tyler and Derrick didn't do that," Jamie said, an edge creeping into his voice. I opened my door and sprang from the seat.


"It's just a nick," Noah said. This time he was a little less convincing. I should have known. 
"I see guts, Noah," Jamie said, exaggerating. At least I hoped he was exaggerating. "How big was this gator?"


Noah shrugged. "Eight feet." 


Oh, yeah. No big deal. 


"I'm going for a swim." Noah stripped off his shirt, and while I didn't see guts, I did see a pretty significant amount of mangled flesh. He hadn't said a word about it during the ride to the hospital. Or the ride to his house. The wound had to hurt, but he'd been stoically silent. He hadn't so much as flinched when Tyler punched him in the stomach. 

 
"Come on, little brother." Jamie slung his arm around Noah's shoulders, but Noah shook him off. 


"Don't baby me. I said I'm fine." With that, Noah disappeared around the side of the house, leaving Jamie and me alone.


Jamie ran his hands through his hair, and when he looked at me, his pale eyes reflected the light, and he looked lost, as though he were asking me what to do. 


"They make it hard for him," I said. "Jax was lucky Noah was there, but somehow it's Noah's fault. I didn't know he was hurt." 


"Yeah, he thinks he's tough like that," Jamie said, his affection for Noah clear in his voice. His eyes skated over me and I could tell he was torn between going after Noah or staying with me. As much as I wanted Jamie to myself, Noah needed him more. There was more going on with Noah than a scratch on his stomach and getting beat up by a couple of d-bags. "I have to go with him."


"I know." My phone buzzed from inside the Tahoe and I crawled back onto the seat, checking the screen. It was my dad. Again. "My dad's been blowing up my phone. He wants me home ASAP."


"Be careful driving home," Jamie said, closing the door, his eyes full of apology. 


"Just make sure Noah's okay."