I grab the bottle of water from the front cup holder and hand it to him. “Will you at least hydrate and take some meds?”
“If that’ll get us back on the road.”
Although I can pretty much tell that he knows he needs some reprieve from the damage to his body, he’s been adamant about consuming the least amount of painkillers as possible, and if I didn’t push him, he probably wouldn’t take any at all. Must be some kind of pride thing. Which makes no sense—he was shot, almost died, and instead of receiving normal medical care, he’s being bumped and tossed around in the back seat of a tiny car while he flees across the country to escape the man who wants him dead. It’s safe to say he’s more than deserving of a couple pills to ease the pain.
But I’ll let him pretend it’s all me if that’s what I have to do to get them down his throat.
“Yes.” I hand him two small, round tablets. “Thank you.”
He swallows them down with a gulp of water and chugs down a bit more.
I hide the smile from forming on my face at correctly guessing he was thirsty.
This man can be completely selfless and do everything for anyone else, but when it comes to tending to himself, he’s a lost cause. That’s where I come into play. I will pick up the slack and look out for him the same he does for others. Because someone so noble deserves care and consideration, too.
The drugs might be a temporary fix, but it’ll buy us a little time until we can get further down the road and to our first stop, where Johnny will get checked over by one of the few physicians we’re scheduled to see along the way. It’s not an ideal situation, but we’re doing the best we can under our fairly shitty circumstances.
Regardless, I’m grateful for the opportunity, considering Johnny could very well have died the way Franklin intended.