Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(60)

By the time my temple was stitched and Yolanda dropped me off at home, it was almost six in the morning. I was pretty much the walking dead at that point, and my head pounded despite the maximum dose of ibuprofen the nurse had given me.

Yolanda wouldn’t let her give me anything stronger.

The key didn’t seem to want to go into the lock, but I figured the fatigue-blurred vision was mainly to blame. Before I managed to get it in, I heard Tria’s voice on the other side.

“Liam? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I called through the door. “I tried to call—”

The door opened, and Tria’s eyes scanned me, and she reached out to pull me inside by my hands. She led me over to the couch, where she sat me down and turned the side lamp a bit so she could see me better.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled. “Can this day get any worse?”

“I’m all good,” I assured her. “Just needed some stitches, and the emergency room was packed.”

“You have blood all over you,” she informed me. “Give me your shirt, or it won’t come out.”

I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my arms out of the sleeves. I winced a bit and looked down at my shoulder where there was a pretty good-sized bruise forming.

“You lost, didn’t you?” Tria assumed from my appearance there could be no other conclusion.

“Nope,” I replied. “I told you—I always win.”

I grinned at her, but she didn’t return the smile.

“Your T-shirt, too,” Tria said. “It’s got blood on it as well. My God, how many stitches did you need?”

“Only seven,” I said. “It really isn’t that bad. Head cuts bleed a lot.”

I pulled off the white T-shirt I had under the other one, and Tria collected them both from me. She took them into the kitchen where I could hear her running water over them. I leaned over the arm of the couch and closed my eyes.

I don’t know how long I remained passed out on the couch, only that I awoke to Tria’s voice and figured out pretty quickly that she must be talking on the phone. It was odd because I didn’t recall her ever getting any phone calls before.

“I know what you are saying… just…just let me talk to her, okay?”

I tried to open my eyes, but the bright light coming in through the window was blinding and made my head pound. I closed them again immediately.

“Five minutes, that’s it…fine…”

There was a longer pause, and then a change in Tria’s tone.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quickly. “I’ll find a way to come and get you…but…I know that, but…if you stay…yes…yes…”

She sighed heavily.

“Your grades didn’t suck that bad…I know, but I can’t help but try to find a way…are you sure?”

I heard her sit down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. Even though I didn’t really understand what she was talking about, there was something about her tone I didn’t like at all. Partially covering my eyes with my hands, I sat up and looked through the cracks in my fingers until my eyes got used to the sunlight.

“If you are sure,” Tria was saying. “No…no way. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be there….not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out...love you, too…No, I don’t want to talk to him again. I’ll find you when I get there. Bye for now.”

I rubbed at my eye and accidentally rubbed against the bandage over the stitches. I winced and hissed through my teeth.

“How are you feeling?” Tria asked as she hung up the phone in the kitchen and came over to sit on the edge of the couch.

“I’m good,” I replied. I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself, but it seemed like the best response to give. “Had a lot worse, that’s for sure.”

“Well, you look terrible,” Tria said.

“Thanks,” I said with a wry grin. “What time is it?”

“Just past noon,” she told me.

“Still Saturday?”

“Yes.” Tria shook her head at me.

“Hey, you never know!” I would have laughed, but I was afraid it would hurt my head if I tried.

“You sure you are all right?” she asked again, her voice full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”

She looked me over, and I could see her gaze fluctuating between my eyes. I wasn’t sure what she was looking to find, but apparently she found it. She gave me a quick nod and then tried to kill me with her next sentence.

“Good,” she stated, “because I have to go home.”

I knew the whole “life passing before your eyes” was only supposed to happen when you were faced with death, but that didn’t stop the last few weeks from running through my head in a matter of seconds. Everything from when I saw her surrounded by those animals in the street, to feeling her hand press against my chest when I confronted her douchebag ex, to wrapping her up in my arms the previous night, flashed in my brain as I considered what she was saying.

She was leaving.

Going home.

“What the f*ck?” I yelled, which made my head pound more and made Tria startle. “What the f*ck are you talking about? Going home? What are you doing, dropping out of school?”