I was supposed to get to it.
I was supposed to fix it, and because of me...
Crouching, I get close to her, and her eyes are dissociating as she looks at the wound.
“Hey, hey,” I whisper, gripping her face in my hands, not caring if this screws with my initial plan.
Screw professionalism.
Screw not being personal.
Whispers and low voices begin behind me as a crowd forms. Her eyes are glazed over, and I know she’s thinking aboutthatnight, and my heart begins to ache. After all this time, it still haunts her. “Bianca, hey. Don’t look at them. Don’t look at the wound.Lookat me,” I whisper over and over, rubbing my thumbs across her cheekbones as she blinks, her eyes coming back into focus. She squeezes her features, no doubt in pain, but she trains her gaze on mine. “What were you thinking?” I ask lowly. “He’s our most violent dog, and you started not that long ago. It takes months and months of practice before you can even go ... near him.” I choke slightly on my words, but she doesn’t waver from my gaze.
She winces. “I’m sor—I’m sorry, Michael said it would be fine. I’m sorry.” I shake my head, hating how she’s blaming it on herself. From what I know, Michael started almost a year ago, and for him to encourage this is incredibly irresponsible. Her gaze begins to stray, but I keep her looking at me. Distress courses through me as I grab her arm gently to see what the damage is, but she pulls back. The murmuring is still very much happening behind me, but it all fades as I figure out how to help her.
Rachel fights her way through the crowd before focusing on the scratch. “Liam, what happened?”
“I got her.” Looking back down at Bianca, I say, “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” She’s still shaking.
It’s for me. I need to have her close right now.
She nods, and I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her body. She nods at Rachel too, almost as if she’s trying to reassure her that she’s okay, that it was an accident. I walk through the crowd, most of them being courteous and getting out of the way.
“Bianca, I’m so sorry. I thought you could handle stronger dogs—”
I cut off Michael, keeping my anger and frustration at bay. “You made a mistake.” Inhaling shakily, I continue, “She’s hurt, so go, please.” He visibly pales, but nods anyway. I glance down at Bianca in worry before moving forward, even though I have more words for Michael. Coming inside, she shivers, and I hug her closer to my chest, hoping that it warms her. I skirt past the curious stares, heading to our first aid room. Closing the door, I set her down on the makeshift bed, her hissing in pain once again. I reach for her arm and she flinches, startled.
“I need to see it,” I whisper, trying to get close to her, but she moves back, making me stop in my tracks. I wait a bit, not wanting to force her into anything. Glancing away from me, she holds her arm out and I grasp it gently. My heart pounds against my rib cage as I wrap my hand around hers, extending it slightly. Dropping my eyes to her wound, I analyze it, thanking everything above it isn’t as deep as it looks. She looks up right when I’m ready to say something, and I lose my train of thought.
“Is it bad?”
A simple question, but again, one look from her and I’ve been absolutely derailed.
“Um, I don’t think so. I’ll get the first aid kit.” I motion to the shelf next to us. I grab some antiseptic, bacitracin, and gauze. She stares at the cut and I rush to raise her head before she can go back into a panic. Clutching her arm, I start dabbing at the wound with some alcohol, but she flinches. “Hey,” I say, hesitantly putting my hand on the side of her face.“I’m trying to help, Bianca.” Fear is etched onto her pale face and she’s still shaking like a leaf even though it’s warmer in this room.
I continue to dab at the wound, trying with everything not to move her arm too much or press too hard. After disinfecting and applying a thin layer of ointment, I wrap the gauze and gently put the end under the wrap so it stays in place. Her eyes lock with mine and a small smile blooms across her lips. Clearing my throat, I blink rapidly, hoping my face isn’t red as I scan her body to make sure this is the only place she’s hurt. She looks at me in curiosity, but I ignore her. I want to commit her to memory because I might not have another chance to be this close. I frown as I remember this is all my fault. Fixing up that fence should’ve been the first thing I did when I clocked in.
She looks down before mumbling, “You think the dogs will sign my wrap?” A small chuckle leaves me and we exchange genuine smiles. Even in pain, she’s the only girl who can fully capture my attention, and I run my eyes greedily all over her face.
Though, guilt overtakes me completely as I remember how I was partially at fault. “Bianca—”
The door opens and Rachel pops her head in. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Bianca counters, and I look at her, pleading her not to walk away. She clears her throat, avoiding my face. “Could I leave my shift early today?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BIANCA
After Rachel lets me leave, I try my best to avoid Liam as I wait for Mom to pick me up. I was partly successful before I open my locker to get my bag when I see his hoodie, folded nicely, with a little note.
So you don’t get cold next time. —L
Debating, I bite my lip before grabbing it and heading to the parking lot. Mom’s eyes widen, and I already know how this drive is going to go.
“I get it,” I mumble as Mom has been—for the better part of the thirty-five-minute drive—ranting about what happened at the shelter today.
