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“It looks worse than it is.” She didn’t admit that her fingers felt a little numb and that worried her.
“Let’s go,” Aria ordered, stepping in between her and Rick and herding her out the door to her car parked out back.
Rick stood and watched them go, his face a mask of frustration and anger.
Lyric found comfort in the quiet car.
Aria took the wheel. “Stubborn.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Aria put her hand on Lyric’s shoulder. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Lyric didn’t answer because she knew exactly what Aria meant.
Rick looked at her like she belonged to him. Not in a romantic way, but a possessive one that felt all wrong.
It didn’t take long to get to the hospital. Aria parked. Lyric kept her arm close to her chest as they walked in. She spotted one of their frequent customers. “Hey, Drew, looks like there are more people at the bar than here tonight. My lucky day.”
Drew gasped when she spotted the plate fragment sticking out of her arm. “What happened?”
She stopped in front of the reception desk but spoke to her nurse friend. “Kitchen accident.”
Drew glanced at the person working the counter. “I’ll take her to a cubicle.”
Lyric answered all the receptionist’s questions and did her best to sign all the consent forms before she dutifully followed Drew through a door and to a cubicle. Aria followed behind her. Lyric sat on the bed. Her area was draped off from the one beside it. She wondered what brought her ER neighbor in tonight. She hoped it wasn’t serious.
She debated just yanking the piece of plate out of her arm and asking for a Band-Aid but thought she better let the professionals do it. She didn’t want to cause more harm. The thick piece of ceramic was bound to cut her more on the way out. And she wouldn’t mind some numbing stuff before they ripped it out. Although, she couldn’t really feel anything but the throbbing anymore, and that scared her.
Drew helped her settle back on the raised bed. “Let me take your blood pressure and get a look at that wound before I call the doctor in here.”
Lyric held her good arm out for the blood-pressure cuff.
Aria took a seat beside her, looking worried.
While Drew checked all her vitals, Lyric listened to the people in the next cubicle.
“Just sit still, and let them sew you up.” The man’s deep voice sounded both annoyed and concerned.
“I just want to get out of here.” The familiar voice surprised her, and she turned and stared at the drape.
“M?” she called out.
There was a long pause. “Lyric?”
Someone opened the curtain between them, though they remained hidden behind it.
She stared wide-eyed at M, his chest bare, a bandage on his head, and a huge cut running from hisshoulder down part of his bicep. A doctor sat beside him, sewing it up.
She threw her feet to the ground and went to him. She reached for him, but he stretched his free hand across himself and grabbed her arm at the elbow.
“What the hell happened to you?”
She stared at him in shock. “Me! Look at you. How did you get hurt?” Her heart hurt for him. The cut looked deep and bad. And she had no idea what happened to his head.
“Um, you’re in my light,” the doctor grumbled.
Drew put her hand on Lyric’s shoulder. “I really need you to sit down. Once Dr. Thomas is done with your friend, he’ll take a look at your arm.”
