“You’re staying for the night. They need to keep you under observation for another day.”
“I’m fine,” Jesse says. “Just bruised a little. They don’t need to keep me here.”
“Oh yes, they do. You passed out on me, Jesse.”
“That—,” Jesse feels blood rushing up to his face. “That was nothing. I was hungry.”
“Jesse...” Trey’s voice is gentle, coaxing. Jesse feels Trey’s hands on his arms. “You should rest.”
No, I shouldn’t, Jesse thinks. And he can’t. He has no way to pay for all this. He has no insurance, nothing.
Ignoring his protesting ribs, Jesse bends down to pick up his jeans. He catches his breath as pain assaults him and he is grateful for Trey’s hands on him, helping him up. He stammers, “I—I’m sorry. Fuck!”
Trey lets Jesse go and turns to the window. “You haven’t told me what happened. Were you robbed?”