But it was worth it.
And I hoped Cyrus wouldn’t let me sit in a jail cell, especially when I did it to save him.
CHAPTER 14
CYRUS
Iraised my bowling ball of a head higher, trying to get it stationary on top of my neck as it followed gravity and continued to drop. The black spots were cloudy as my vision slowly dissipated, and I blinked, helping the gorgeous face in front of me to come into focus.
Imogen wore a tight frown as she watched me warily. A second passed and then another and then a third before she nodded once and lifted a small water bottle to my lips.
“Take sips of this if you can,” she said, trying to tip the bottle back to make it easier.
My head tumbled like I tried to hit a split at the bowling alley.
“Whoa, don’t go too fast,” she said, sounding like she was talking to a child. Memories of her cleaning my wound and then using a long needle to stitch it closed resurfaced.
I groaned, taking the water from her, but rather than using it to drink, I rolled it across my forehead for coolness. Except the water wasn’t cold. It was barely room temperature, and the surrounding air was muggy and humid. “Did I pass out?” I asked, my throat sick and dry.
She pinched her lips together, and I saw my answer, but it didn’t make the words any less embarrassing. “Yes, right at the end as I was tying up the last suture, but only for like twenty seconds.”
I groaned again, but this one sounded more like a moan as a deep headache set in. Probably from the bowling pins crashing together every time a car drove by where we were sat in the park.
She motioned to the water bottle, and I managed the hand-eye coordination to bring the bottle to my lips and slowly pushed it back so a few drops of warm water hit my tongue. They were the most glorious warm water I’d ever drunk, and if I had better control of my muscles, I would’ve finished the bottle.
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” I said as soon as I moved the bottle from my lips. “I swear stitches have never made me pass out before.” I never had stitches at any point in my life, but I wasn’t a wimp ass, so it was safe to say that if I had, I would never have passed out.
No way would I be able to look Imogen in the eyes again.
Rather than laugh, she splayed her hand on my knee and then tipped the bottle closer, reminding to take another drink. “Cyrus, you’re dehydrated and have had significant blood loss. You’re excused for this one incident.”
Fire burned my arm, and I ignored the shooting pain as I adjusted to get a look at the work Imogen did. There were so many stitches I didn’t stop to count them, but they all lined up in a neat row. When I finish looking, she rubbed a cream over top and slapped a bandage as gently as possible against the three-inch line.
“You did a great job. These have to be the best stitches I’ve ever had,” I said, which was not a lie since they were the only stitches I’d ever had.
“I guess it’s one of those things where God prepares you for what you need in life. I wouldn’t have known how to do them if I hadn’t spent my first year out of nursing school volunteering at the free clinic in town. You have to learn fast and are required to have more skills than you typically need in this profession.” She took the empty bottle from me and screwed the cap on. “I haven’t been asked to do stitches at the hospital, but turns out the skill is like riding a bike.”
I repositioned myself up against a tree and scanned the crowd past Imogen. It was just as full of people as it had been when she dropped me off. Except no children were playing because there was no equipment. The park was really just a large block of the city left undeveloped for grass to grow and big tall oak trees.
In the middle of the space, a sidewalk circled a fountain with fresh blue flowing water. Metal benches lined the walkway. The people who loitered in the space were friendly with one another as they carried on conversations while they walked by, but the state of their dress and the number of possessions they carried on them held clues to the true nature of these gatherings.
I leaned back, getting as comfortable as possible against a tree trunk, and tried to calm my racing thoughts to form a new plan to save the two of us. A man wearing a dingy gray shirt and a baseball cap, which used to be green but had since faded by the sun and darkened by long periods of wear, approached.
Imogen followed my gaze as I tracked him getting closer, and she spun, greeting him with a smile. He pulled his baseball cap low on his head, his curly hair sticking out underneath the brim.
He stopped a few feet from Imogen and I braced nervously, knowing if he did something I wouldn’t be able to protect her, but he only held out the bottle of water he carried along with him. “Do you two need help? It looks a little rough over here,” he said and somehow pulled it off perfectly without sounding judgmental in the least.
Imogen raised a hand and shook her head. “Thank you, but we can’t take it from you,” she said.
He held the bottle out for her and took another step closer, his gaze on my arm. “It looks like you two need it more than me.”
She lowered her hand and accepted his gift. “Thank you.”
“I got a blanket back at my station if you need it, but none of us have shoes. Those are gold around here,” he said, looking at my bare feet and then Imogen’s, which she’d covered with blue hospital booties. Her face turned a slight shade of pink and she slipped out of them exposing her light purple painted toes.
When the man ran his fingers through his long beard and scratched at his skin, I did the same, the growth becoming itchy. Shaving hadn’t been a priority. Birds chirped in the tree above me, and I looked up at them for a moment to get my emotions under control.
Here was a man who obviously had so little, but his generosity in a time of need couldn’t be compared. I didn’t know how to respond. I’d never been in a position where I contemplated taking a blanket from a homeless man—a blanket that might be his one and only that he needed. But he’d offered it to me instead. A tickle in my throat turned heavy, and I swallowed hard to push it down, searching for something to say as a thank you.
