Page 22 of Waiting on Life
He huffed and rattled off a number. I scribbled it on a piece of paper, then went back and knelt again. I reached out and pulled the towel away so I could see if he was still bleeding. He wasn’t, but the swelling had gotten worse. I gasped as I reached out to touch, but drew my hand back, because I had no idea how much pain he was in.
“Is it that bad?”
He must have seen the truth on my face.
“Well, there goes my stunning good looks,” he quipped.
But it wasn’t true. He was still beautiful in my eyes. And though I couldn’t understand the reasons, I wanted to…. No, I had to get that thought out of my headnow. I wasn’t into men, and I didn’t shit where I ate.
His eyes closed. “I think I mightlayback for a while,” he said, his voice softer than before. “Head’s kinda swimmy.”
My heart dropped into my stomach as he curled up and closed his eyes. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
He gave a slight shake of his head, then winced. “No, but calling Pete might not be a bad idea,” he whispered.
I pulled out my phone and dialed. My palms were sweating, and I could barely hold the damn thing.
“H’lo?”
“Pete, this is Toby. I’m sorry if I woke you. I need a favor.”
“Toby?” he asked, sounding groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“Kyle needs to go to the emergency room. I was hoping you’d—”
“What the fuck did you do to Kyle?” he demanded, now sounding wide awake. “I swear to God, if you hurt him, I’ll—”
“One of the customers sucker-punched him,” I interjected. “I’m going to work for him, so I was hoping you’d take him. If you can’t, then I’ll close the bar and drive him there myself.”
“He—he’s okay?” Pete asked, his voice breaking.
“His nose is swelling and he’s got a split lip. He says he’s feeling lightheaded.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I…. Thank you for calling me.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s my fault it happened,” I replied, but Pete had already hung up.
“Was not,” Kyle called from the couch. “I usually pay better attention.”
But he shouldn’t have needed to think he was going to get hit. Not at work. Not with me standing right there. I should have been able to protect him.
I slipped the phone into my pocket, then went back to the couch. “How you feeling?” I asked.
He sighed. “Go out to the bar. Take care of our customers. I’ll be here when Pete shows up, I promise.”
I knew he was right, but walking away from him felt wrong on so many levels. I was about to say so when the phone on the desk rang with the bar’s tone. I went to the desk and pushed Speaker.
“What’s up, Scott?”
“The police are here,” he said.
Shit. “Tell them I’ll be out as soon as—”
“You’ll go now,” Kyle called. “Go do your job. Let me rest.”
The thought that he might have a concussion hit me hard. Did you let people sleep if they did? I couldn’t remember anything beyond the TV shows I saw where if someone with a concussion went to sleep, they might not wake up.
“Toby?” Scott said softly.
