Page 99 of Bad Boy
“They’d call the police for a ‘stab’ wound. I’d go to jail,” I say wearily.
Too much fucking talking.
“Stab wound?! What the fuck, Remi! Why didn’t you say something?”
He looks horrified as he leaps up and shoves the front door open, hollering for Sasha. I vaguely remember that she’s on her way to medical school.
She sprints outside in her normal leggings and employee tank top with a purple fleece that matches the purple in her hair. She gasps as she takes in the pitiful sight the two of us make right now.
I smile up at her nonetheless. “Stitch me up, Doc.” I remove the pressure from my side and show her my palm glistening with blood. I think it’s almost stopped now.
“Remington!Oh my God!” she cries out dramatically.
An awkwardly timed giggle rings out next to me, and I peer at Linc from under half-closed lids.
“She full-named you,” he whispers before promptly lowering his head back to my shoulder.
“Otto, help Remi. I can get Linc.”
They manage to get us up and shuffle into the gym. Otto locks the door and turns the lights off, ushering us back to the break room with a flashlight he keeps at the front desk.
“I have blankets in the closet. Let's get them on the couches.” Otto’s talking to Sasha as I lean heavily on him. He pulls me in, taking the extra weight, and an uncomfortable lump of emotion forms in my throat. The stress of the last couple of weeks—hell, the last couple of months—is catching up to me. I try to be inconspicuous, but I’m pretty sure the quiet sniffle gives me away.
“Come on. I got you,” he whispers, guiding me to where Sasha has already laid out soft-looking plaid blankets for us. Lincoln is settled onto a couch, eyes closed.
“Is he okay?” I grit out. Sasha slips his shoes off and pulls another plaid blanket on top of him.
“He said he got punched in the stomach and the face, but he’s fine. Just exhausted. I’ll get him an ice pack for his nose.”
“Well, can’t you check him for internal bleeding or some shit?” I grumble.
He sits up, pulling the blanket to his chest and tucking it under his chin. He peers at me with sleepy yet lucid eyes.
“I don’t have internal bleedin’.Okay?So, please just sit down. I’m worried aboutyou. You’rebleedin’. A lot, Remi.” His eyes dart to my hand that looks like I dipped it in dark red paint.
I continue to stand here, leaning heavily against Otto. I stare back at Lincoln, cataloging his features. He’s drained, and I can see he’s crashing as hard as I am.
“Alright,” I concede, somewhat satisfied that he’s really okay.
Otto and Sasha gingerly slip my hoodie and T-shirt over my head, helping me lie on the couch. I examine my side, hissing at the slice in my skin. It’s shallow but also pretty long. I’m lucky it missed the Detroit skyline tattoo that wraps around my torso. This is gonna leave a gnarly scar, and I woulda been pissed if they fucked up one of my tats.
Linc gasps from across the small living area, lying on his own couch, which is perpendicular to mine.
“It looks worse than it is, Linc. I promise,” I whisper softly, and Sasha glances between us. She rifles through the first aid kit, looking for supplies to fix me up.
“Shit, Otto. You don’t have it.”
“What do you need?” he asks intensely. “If it’s not there, I’ll call Sterling.”
“What? No. No. No. Why would you call Coach? Don’t do that.” I cannot deal with his know-it-all ass right now.
“He was a field medic in the army in Afghanistan, Remi. That’s why. He still does medical work with the VA, so he might have what Sasha needs.”
“I need Dermabond. This is a clean, straight line; it’s not jagged. So glue is ideal.” Then she turns to me. “You don’t need stitches, hun. They’re painful and unnecessary. You’ll be able to do everyday activities while you heal, as long as you’re careful not to pull the glue.”
I nod. “Call him,” I grit out, knowing I need help. Being able to move around without stitches would be best. Especially with my asshole prick of a father still out there. I clench my jaw thinking about all the texts and bullshit he’s been tormenting me with.
“I’ll make the call. Sash, disinfect that. Stat.” Otto nods toward the gash, grimacing.
