Byran forced his voice to sound hoarse. Iâm not sure. Maybe I aggravated my wound when I called you.â
Ida frowned at him. âAre you nuts? Why didnât you use your uninjured arm to make the call?â
Byran looked hurt. âI was worried about you, so I didnât really think about that.â
A muffled laugh came from the couch nearby, catching Idaâs attention. She looked over and noticed a middle-aged man sitting there.
McNeil couldnât hold back his laughter after watching his stubborn son act so pitifully in front of a girl.
He had missed a great career in acting.
Judging by his appearance, Ida guessed who he was and looked a little embarrassed. âYou must be Mr. Howard. Iâm sorry I didnât notice you earlier.â
McNeil waved her off. âNo worries; donât mind me. You two carry on.â
Ida was a bit taken aback by his nonchalant attitude.
Unfazed by his fatherâs presence, Byran pulled Idaâs hand and continued his performance. âIda, my wound hurts. Can you rub it a little? Your touch will surely ease the pain.â
Ida looked at him as if he had lost his mind. âYouâve got a tear in your flesh. How can I rub that? Itâll only worsen the wound.â
Byran fell silent.
He just wanted her to show some concern, but he forgot about the nature of his wound.
How embarrassingâ¦
âWell, can you blow on it then? A couple of your breaths, and Iâd be alright.â Byran whined again..
Ida could hardly bear his antics in front of his father. She forced a smile and whispered, âBlow on your head! Behave yourself. Your father is right there!â
Byran shrugged. âWeâre not doing anything wrong, so whatâs there to be embarrassed about? Ida, it really hurts.â
Seeing his furrowed brows and the red seeping through the bandage, Ida said, âIt really looks like your wound has reopened. I think you might need stitches. Donât move. Iâll get the doctor.â As she turned to leave, Byran realized his act was about to be exposed. He quickly grabbed her. âIda, Iâm fine! The doctor is busy. Donât bother him. Just stay here with me. Your company makes me feel better.â
Ida looked back at him, still holding onto her with his injured hand. âYouâre still using that hand? Wait until it gets infected and you lose it. Letâs see if youâll cry then.â
Byran, knowing he wasnât really hurt, brushed her off. âDonât worry, Ida; with you here, I wonât get an infection. Just sit down and chat with me. You donât need to get the doctor.â Ida paused, noticing something off about Byran. She looked at the bandage again and realized that the red was too bright to be blood.
She almost fell for his act.
âAre you sure youâre really hurt?â
Byran began looking a bit guilty. âWhat are you talking about, Ida? Iâm bleeding; how can this be fake?
Iâm really hurt, and it hurts a lot. Just sit down and chat with me.â