Chapter 15

"--vyn."

Devyn fought through the fog that threatened to keep his brain from functioning. He could tell he was warm, probably in his bed still. There was a presence next to him, pressure on his arm.

God, why was it so hard to wake up? He groaned, trying to remember what had happened. He fought the heaviness of his eyelids as memories flooded back. Michael finding the bruises. Brad finding out that Michael saw them. Oh, shit, he whined to himself. Brad would be pissed. Had Brad done-- The doctor! Shit! The man had given him something--

He suddenly flailed, swinging wildly at the man beside him, gasping with the pain that flared in his side as he did. He felt the man jump away from the bed.

"Whoa, whoa, Devyn, calm down!"

The voice was familiar, non-threatening, soothing. He managed to roll to his back, his hand instinctively covering his bruised ribs, as his eyes shot open.

Jason.

Thank god. He panted as his heartbeat began to slow back down. He pressed his eyes shut as he breathed through the pain that he'd caused.

"Hey, kid," Jason said gently. Devyn looked up at the man. The man's dark features looked tired, and the man was looking at him oddly, almost scrutinizing him. "How are you feeling? I was getting worried. You slept for over twelve hours."

Now that he knew there was no immediate threat, Devyn slowly took stock of the condition of his body. For a second, he worried that he'd been undressed but realized quickly that he was still in his jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. Did that mean--

Devyn looked at his bodyguard and nodded. ^I feel better.^

"Good," Jason smiled. Devyn raised his brow at the strange way the man was looking at him. It didn't make him feel nervous; it was like the man was suddenly seeing him for the first time.

Devyn hesitated, wondering if he should even ask, but he needed know. ^Did--^ He stopped realizing what he wanted to say may be too much for lip reading, so he pointed at the small notepad that he sometimes used for communication.

Jason smiled and grabbed it.

Devyn scribbled his question: Did Dr. Hembry What did Dr. Hembry do while he was here?

Devyn watched the man frown at the paper, obviously finding the question odd.

"Well, he checked your ribs. Then gave you the shot of a painkiller. It kinda knocked you out. And you've been asleep since."

Devyn scribbled on the paper again: Did he leave after he gave me the shot?

The mocha-haired man raised his brow. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't he?"

^Sometimes he stays,^ Devyn worded.

"Oh, yeah," Jason patted his shoulder, "well, he was going to. Said he'd get you comfortable and stay with you while I got dinner..."

Devyn's eyes shot open in terror.

"... but I didn't see the point in that," Jason continued, eyeing him oddly again, and Devyn felt his relief soar. "You were already asleep anyway."

'Thank you,' Devyn signed, grateful that his bodyguard had been there to keep the doctor away from him.

"You're welcome?" Jason said, obviously not sure what he was being thanked for.

He shivered to imagine what the man would have done had Jason left them alone; he almost could feel the cold fingers on his skin, touching him intimately as he'd done so many times before, this time without his knowledge. Oh, shit, he thought, as he realized just how close the doctor had come to being able to touch him again. He felt a wave of nausea roll over him, and he darted for the bathroom. Jason jumped out of the way.

As Devyn vomited in the toilet, Jason watched him sympathetically from the doorway.

"Guess that pain med was pretty hard on your stomach," his bodyguard commented, stepping into the bathroom to fill a cup of water for him.

Devyn nodded gratefully, accepting the cup and rinsing his mouth. He promptly grabbed his toothbrush, scrubbing away the awful taste.

"How about we go downstairs and get you something to eat? Something light to settle your stomach?"

Devyn nodded again, taking a wet rag to his face and neck. He'd take a shower later. He felt exhausted right now. As he followed Jason down the stairs, he froze briefly when he heard Brad's voice in the foyer, apparently talking with Nelson.

"Just check on it, alright?" Brad sighed wearily. "We need to be sure."

"Of course," Nelson said, his eyes flitting over to Devyn, and Devyn could practically feel the malice leaching over him from the man. Instinctively, Devyn dipped his eyes away. He really wasn't feeling up to a fight right now.

As Nelson disappeared out the door, Brad's auburn head swept in his direction. The man's eyes narrowed slightly before crinkling into a smile.

"Ahh, Devyn, good to see you're up. Feeling better?" Brad asked.

Devyn nodded, his blond bangs falling into his face as he reached the landing.

"Good," Brad smiled, "We can always call Dr. Hembry back to have a look..."

Devyn was already shaking his head, glaring at Brad. The man's eyes swept over his shoulder to Jason before Devyn felt Brad wrapping his arm around his waist. Devyn tensed as his step-brother's fingers fell on his tender ribs. Brad's breath was hot against his ear. "Take it easy, no need to get all uptight. You know your grandmother depends on you, right?"

To anyone else, it probably looked like Brad was giving Devyn a comforting hug, but Devyn felt the man's fingers dig into this ribs warningly. He grimaced as the words and threat sunk in. "Then we just need to make sure that you stay healthy, right?"

Devyn nodded at the seemingly innocent words veiled with a threat. He wasn't sure what had prompted Brad's threat this time; he hadn't talked to anyone but...

Fuck! He suddenly realized that Michael had probably demanded answers from Brad or something. God, he hoped that the teen had just accepted the excuse that he'd fallen.

Brad grinned, patting his back roughly. "Okay, then. Jase, just let me know how he is. He should probably stay in bed this weekend, let that bruise heal."

Devyn felt the disappointment wash over him. Brad wasn't going to let him go out to the stables. He wasn't going to let Michael see him.

"Sure, Brad," Devyn heard his bodyguard answer. "I'll keep an eye on him."

He pulled himself onto a stool in the kitchen. Chris gave him a sympathetic smile, but Devyn just ignored the man. The asshole was just as bad as Sam or Nelson--just because he never did anything. Trent either. Both of them were almost worse, they knew what Brad did--they had to--but they never lifted a finger to help him. The jerks both knew. They knew, he was sure of it.

Devyn could still hear Jason's voice in the hallway.

"Hey, Brad, did the police say if they were coming back to talk to Devyn?"

Devyn dropped the fork he'd just picked up, and it clattered to the plate. The police? Had the police been here? Shit. That would explain Brad's threats all of a sudden. He felt his body shaking, as he tried to pick the fork back up, while trying not to look like he was listening to what was going on in the foyer.

"I don't think so. Deputy Watson said they were satisfied with the reports, but I'll let you know if he does," Brad's voice said easily.

"Okay, just want to make sure Devyn is awake if he does," Jason's deep voice stated.

Jason appeared next to him, giving him that odd stare again. Devyn wondered what was up with the man all of a sudden this morning. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. He leaned over his plate and ate some of the eggs and toast, hoping his stomach didn't rebel anymore.

"You okay, Devyn?" Trent's voice came from across the kitchen bar as he passed by towards the coffee maker.

He looked up, catching the gazes of all three men looking at him. He glared back at them all. ^I'm fucking fine!^ he snapped silently. ^What the hell do you care anyway?^

He shoved the plate away hard enough for it to slide across the bar and topple over to the counter below. He twisted off the seat, eliciting a hiss of pain, before he stalked back up to his room.

"Devyn!" Jason's voice called.

"It's fine," Trent said softly. "He's just..."

Devyn didn't hear anything else as he slammed his door shut.

@@@@

"Devyn!" Jason jumped up to follow the kid, shocked by the abrupt display of anger.

"It's fine," Trent said softly. "He's just upset."

Jason watched Chris silently picking up the dishes.

"He shouldn't have done that," Jason muttered.

"It's okay," Chris said as he shoved the mess into the trashcan. "He's just hurt from ... from his fall."

"Yeah," Trent agreed as he turned toward the garage door. "He'll be fine in a day or two."

Jason narrowed his eyes at the two men. He was so exhausted from the lack of sleep last night that he almost missed the odd look that passed between the two men. They almost looked ... sad, guilty?

"You guys okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Chris straightened. "Why?"

"I don't know. You just look like--"

"I'm fine," Chris said abruptly, his expression hardening. "Just busy. Need to plan next week's meals, go shopping... Just busy, that's all."

"Fine, huh?" Jason eyed the man, unconvinced by the excuse. "Everyone seems to be fucking 'fine' lately," he mumbled.

Chris moved quickly to avoid Jason's gaze, but Jason cut him off, stepping right up in front of him, blocking his exit from the kitchen.

"Chris," he said softly, his voice pleading, "Is there--"

"I don't know anything," Chris interrupted quickly, shaking his head before Jason could voice any of his suspicions about Brad, even if he hadn't figured out exactly what he wanted to know himself. "Don't ask me questions, please."

"'Don't get involved'," Jason repeated what the man had said to him before.

Chris's eyes widened, then he nodded resignedly. "Yeah."

"There's more going on than Brad being involved with drugs, isn't there?" Jason whispered, his fears from last night washing over him again.

Chris met his eyes.

"Yesterday you said no little deuce would ever win against Brad's full house, what--" Jason started, but Chris suddenly stiffened at the sound of footsteps.

Sam appeared in the foyer, and Chris made his move to escape Jason's scrutiny. "Hey, Sam," Chris greeted. "I need to run to the store. Want anything in particular?"

Sam smiled his odd lopsided sneer. "Yeah, get me some beef jerky. Oh, and some of those little chocolate covered pretzel things."

Chris grabbed his list. "Sure," he said, as he darted out of the kitchen before Jason could ask him anything else.

Sam glanced at him as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

"How's the little prick?" Sam grunted, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Jason bristled at the slur against the kid, even though a few days ago he was calling the boy the same thing.

"The kid's fine. Hiding out in his room," Jason said easily. He watched the hulking man pour a generous amount of cream into his cup. "So, you don't think the sheriff going to come get Devyn's statement?"

Sam frowned at him. "Thought Brad told you no already. They have what they need."

"But wouldn't they need the statement from the actual victim--?"

"What victim?" Sam's eyes narrowed. "He fell."

"Well, yeah, but ... wouldn't they want Devyn to tell them that himself?" Jason pressed.

Sam stared at him for a long time, his eyes assessing, calculating. "I suppose they feel it's not worth their time to be hunting down some kid for him to tell them he's a klutz," Sam said slowly. "But if you think they need to come by, by all means, call Deputy Watson and have him drop by. Hopefully, no one will get robbed or murdered while he's asking the prick how he fucking fell."

Jason grimaced at the man's words. "Alright, alright. I get what you are saying," he agreed, dropping his eyes as he turned.

Jason could practically feel the man's eyes boring into his back as he turned to take his coffee and bagel up the stairs.

"Hey," Sam's voice stopped him cold, "You have a problem?"

Jason turned, keeping his voice even. "No, just doing what Brad told me to--keeping the kid out of trouble."

Sam stared him down for a minute, before seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw. "Good. You do that."

"Of course," Jason smiled widely.

Jason disappeared up the stairs, noting that Devyn's door was closed. He dropped his plate on the coffee table, as he settled back into the sectional, trying to think.

And the more he thought, the more he worried that Brad wasn't just the drug dealer that he'd thought he was yesterday. And he suspected Trent and Chris knew what was going on. Damn, could the sheriff know too, and he had ignored it?

No, Jason remembered, Sheriff Marlin seemed more suspicious of the whole incident. It was Deputy Watson that was dismissing it so easily. Of course, without Devyn admitting anything, then there was nothing anyone could do anyway. Jason remembered Brad saying something about Watson 'burying it'. Jeez, Brad must have the police in his pocket too; well, at least the deputy anyway. He dropped his head in his hands. He couldn't even keep his thoughts straight anymore.

Jason flopped back on the couch, his head pounding with the flood of realizations and suspicions that his friend was maybe not who he thought he was. Maybe he was so much worse.