Tires screeched against the asphalt as David slammed his brakes, the car jerking to a violent stop. His eyes widened in shock while he switched off the engine, flung the door open, and rushed out.
The door banged shut behind him as he ran toward the young man lying unconscious on the road in front of his car. David dropped to his knees beside him just as a few men hurried over.
"I believe you are satisfied now," an elderly man said sharply as he crossed the road, glancing both ways before approaching them. "I wonder where you people keep your attention while driving, speeding to God knows where."
"Please, help me carry him into my car," David said, looking desperately at the men around him.
"What are you morons waiting for?" the elderly man snapped, irritation written across his face. "Take him to the car. Are you waiting for him to die?"
The men quickly lifted the unconscious young man and carried him into the vehicle while David stood and stepped closer to the elderly man.
"Thank you, sir," David said as the man studied him carefully, his gaze intense. "I know you do not stay around here," he said.
"No. I came to see a friend," David replied quickly, pulling out a card and handing it to him. "I am David. David MacSinclair. I..."
"Enough," the elderly man interrupted. "Pa James. Take that young man to the hospital immediately."
"Y-yes, right away," David stammered. "What about his family? Any relatives or friends?"
"Michael has no family," Pa James said firmly. "His mother was the only one he had, and she died months ago."
"No more questions." Pa James cut David off as he opened his mouth to speak again. "Go now and make sure he stays alive. I will call you." He tapped the card against David's chest.
David nodded and ran to his car, opening the door and getting halfway in before suddenly rushing out again, which made Pa James glare at him as he turned and approached the men standing by the roadside.
"Thank you," he said, pressing a bundle of dollars into one of their hands as Pa James stretched his hand forward to stop him, but no words came out. He simply watched David enter his car, shut the door, and start the engine before the vehicle reversed sharply, turned, and sped away, after which Pa James looked at the men, his eyes sweeping over the money in their hands as he shook his head in disgust and walked away.
******
◈HOURS LATER◈
David paced nervously outside the ward, Michael's phone in his hand, his fingers tapping against each other anxiously. The door opened and a doctor stepped out.
"Doctor," David said quickly.
"Maxwell," the doctor corrected.
"Dr. Maxwell," David said, steadying himself. "How is he?"
Dr. Maxwell exhaled slowly before offering a faint smile. "You brought him in late, but we did our best. He suffered a mild concussion from the impact and a slight shock to his nervous system. Nothing severe. He will recover fully within a few days. We can discuss the details in my office."
"Thank goodness," David breathed, raising the phone in his hand. "May I see him?"
"You will, but not right now," Dr. Maxwell replied.
"I need his fingerprint to unlock this," David said, showing Michael's phone to him. "I was hoping to contact a family member or a friend." The doctor looked at him for a long moment before nodding slightly.
******
◈THAT NIGHT◈
"Grindr," David murmured as he stared at the app on Michael's phone, then exited it and tapped on the Photos app, where a stunning selfie of Michael filled the screen, making his lips curve into a slow smile as he swiped through the gallery.
"What?" he muttered. "Only six photos?" He swiped again, but nothing changed. "That is all? Not a single photo of family or that of his deceased mom."
David turned on the data, and notifications began flooding in, one message catching his attention as he noticed it was from someone named Ethan Cole and tapped on it.
"Hi handsome. How are you, Michael?"