Page 5 of The Image of You

“I can let you keep bleeding if you want to wait for the doctor.”

Right. Blood.

“No, carry on,” I said grudgingly.

“Fine. Then I’ll get to work.”

“Why am I in a damn gown?” I snarled, fingering the scratchy cotton. “Is my coat in that bag?”

“You were bleeding, and we had to examine you,” she explained patiently. “Your coat is with your clothes in the bag under your bed. You fell into a nasty slush puddle, so your things are wet. Soon as we’re done and you’re all cleaned up, I’ll give you a set of scrubs to change into.”

“Fine.”

I ran my hand along my arm, relieved to feel the familiar heavy links and leather on my wrist.

“We didn’t have to remove your bracelets.”

Bracelets? Jesus, women wore bracelets.

“Bands,” I corrected. “They’re called wristbands.”

“Whatever you want to call them. I suppose wristbands sounds more masculine for you, so okay.”

My lips twitched, but I didn’t say anything. She had me there, and her sass was amusing.

“Do you want me to get your friend?” she asked, working away at my head.

“Friend?”

“I think he said his name was Tommy?”

“No,” I hissed, shifting my torso. “It’s his damn fault I fell. Tell him to go to—”

“Adam,” she warned. “I asked you to stay still.”

“How do you know my name, anyway?” I demanded.

“You’re at the hospital. The paramedics got your information from Tommy, and we checked your wallet.”

That made sense.

“Why do I have an IV? Is it really necessary for a fucking bump on the head? Seems unnecessary to me.”

“It’s standard procedure. Once the doctor examines you and okays it, I can take it out.” She paused with a sigh. “We’re only trying to help you.”

Then her voice sounded teasing again. “If you’re good, I’ll give you a sucker.”

I grunted in annoyance. Did I look like a kid who could be bribed with sweets?

I did like suckers, though.

“What kind?”

“Grape.”

Those were my favorite flavor, and since I really had no choice, I decided to cut her some slack.

Who was she anyway?