Page 30 of The Focal Point

“What is that?” I asked.

“A dusting cloth I picked up earlier,” she answered. “This is nasty, Liam. We need to get you to the hospital. I’ll drive.”

At her words, I felt a surge of panic and shook my head despite the pain. “No, no way.”

“What?” Bailey bent down so her face was hovering close to mine, her eyebrow knitted together. “There’s no way to take care of this here, and you’re bleeding like crazy. You have to get stitches.”

“No,” I repeated, my chest tightening at the thought until I could only take shallow breaths.

Her gaze searched my face, her confusion evident. I took as deep a breath as I could manage and sighed it out.

“I hate hospitals, and I hate needles,” I managed, hoping the blood and dust cloth could hide my embarrassed flush.

So much for looking suave in front of Bailey.

Chapter 12

Bailey

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“HI. I’M CHECKING MY friend in?” I indicated Liam, who was hovering in the corner of my vision, still holding the now-soaked dusting cloth against his head. His T-shirt was soaked in blood, too.

The check-in nurse didn’t look too impressed despite the mess, though she did come out from behind the desk to get a closer look at the wound.

“Did he black out?” she asked.

“Not that I know of.” I looked at Liam, and he shook his head no. He’d barely said a word the entire car ride, growing quieter the closer we got to the hospital. I hoped it was only his fear of the hospital and not that he was losing too much blood—with that thought, I had driven a bit recklessly to get here.

“Okay. Then, help him fill this out, and I’ll find a bed so he can stop bleeding on my floor.” The nurse handed me a clipboard and a pen and disappeared through a set of double doors.

I watched her go, wondering why the nasty comment. It wasn’t like he was bleeding on purpose.

“It’s a hard job.”

Liam was watching me, a slight smile tugging at one corner of his mouth—the first I’d seen since he’d been hit.

“I guess so,” I muttered, grasping the clipboard and looking around for seats. The ER’s waiting room wasn’t too full, thankfully, and I found a seat not far from the double doors.

“Do you want me to fill this out?” I asked, holding out the clipboard as we settled into our chairs.

“I don’t think I can do it.” His eyes rolled toward the hand that held the cloth against his temple.

“Okay, then—” Feeling slightly awkward, I clicked the pen and eyed the form in front of me. “Name: Liam, I mean William Bradford.”

I looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded.

“Middle name?” I asked.

“Ansel.”

The pen paused above the space, I looked at Liam again. “Your middle name is Ansel?”

His smile returned, slightly sheepish. “My mom loved Ansel Adam’s photography.”

“Oh.” I wrote Ansel on the line provided.

“Age?”