“How is she lucky?” Laine demands. “Her arm’s swelling up like a water balloon!”
Trish arches an eyebrow. “She’ll be fine. Now get me a bottle of Electric Daisy.” When Laine just sits there, chest heaving, Trish says, “Go.”
Laine glares at her, then launches to her feet and skulks off, returning with an icy bottle from the cooler.
“Pop the cork,” Trish instructs, and again, Laine grudgingly obeys.
“Now take three big swallows and chill the hell out,” Trish says, her lips pressed into a flat line. I laugh a little, then moan as the movement jars my arm.
“Shouldn’t we take her to urgent care?”
“With this many stings, if she were going to have an anaphylactic reaction, it’d have already started.” Trish turns her attention back to me, gentleness replacing the no-nonsense attitude she undoubtedly perfected after decades of handling upset family. “You feeling dizzy, baby? Any difficulty breathing?”
I shake my head and wince.
“I really think—” Laine begins, but Trish cuts her off like a sword through butter.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna sit with Zoe and keep an eye on her for the next half hour. If anything changes in that time—her face starts looking puffy, any wheezing or whistling when she breathes, any changes atall—you can throw her over your shoulder and cavewoman it all the way to urgent care. Until then, she needs to take it easy and keep the ice packs on. Got it?”
Laine screws up her lips, then nods brusquely.
“Good.” Trish stands and brushes her hands down her legs. “Now, I’ve got other patients to help. I think Booch’s gone and put himself into shock. Call me if you need anything, baby.” She winks at me, thendisappears into the throng of crying drunk people scattered about on folding chairs, waiting their turn.
Laine rocks on her heels, blows out a short breath, then plops onto her ass. Five seconds later, she’s back on her heels. The nervous energy she’s putting off could fuel a power plant.
A smile curves across my face.
She glances down at me and squints suspiciously. “What’reyousmiling about?” Her eyes widen. “That’s not a symptom, is it?Trish—”
“No!” I laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just … you’re—”
Adorable.
Hilarious.
Mine.
My throat tightens, but it’s no allergic reaction. At least, I don’t think so. I start to sit up, but Laine pushes me back down. “Where the hell you think you’re going?”
I sigh and smile at her from where I’m beached on the blanket. “This is an awkward way to have this conversation.”
“What conversation?” Laine crosses her arms, looming over me still.
“About us,” I say softly.
“Us?” Laine’s jaw is locked tight, but when I try to readjust my arm and let out a small cry, she goes soft and concerned as she helps me get more comfortable. Her gaze meets mine. “What do you mean?”
“Are you happy here, Laine?” I swallow. “With me?”
“AmIhappy here? Is this a joke?” Laine blinks down at me. “Yes, Zoe. Happier than I’ve been in years. Maybe not right now—rightnowI’m pretty pissed because I asked youmonthsago to let me get the exterminator out here, butyousaid that bees are a natural part of the ecosystem, which, okay, they are, but yellow jackets are unnatural tools of the devil, and nowlookat you, lying here, jacked upto hell—”
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I try to lean up onto an elbow, but without even breaking her tirade, Laine pushes me right back down.
“—your one arm lookin’ like Popeye’s, and you can’t even move!” Laine presses the palms of her hands against her cheeks and groans. “You could’ve gotten so hurt, Zoe!”
The buzzing grows persistent, but I can’t get it out of my back pocket. “Laine?”
“And nowyou ask me if I’m happy? Well, I’ll be happy once you let me fry those little assholes—”
