I was supposed to be out the day after the tornado. Walk in, get stitched up, walk out. Simple. That was the plan until the doctor decided to keep me overnight for monitoring.
My body, however, had other plans. The fever hit the next morning. One minute I’m arguing with Emily about whether or not she needs to fluff my pillow for the fourth time, and thenext, I’m shivering so hard my teeth are rattling. The nurse took my temperature, frowned, and took it again. Then she frowned harder, which is never a good sign from someone in scrubs.
One hundred and three point six. Apparently that’s enough to make a grown doctor look concerned, which is how I went from an overnight observation to being admitted. The infection in my feet, they said. Glass wounds are notorious for that, apparently. Some of that motel glass must have carried something nasty, and now my immune system has decided to wage war against my own body.
The first two days of fever were a blur—sweat-soaked sheets, ice packs, doctors poking and prodding at my feet while I drift in and out of consciousness. I remember Jonah’s voice at one point, low and steady, reading something to me. Weather data, I think.
By the third day, my fever had finally broken. I remember waking up drenched in sweat, but clear-headed for the first time in what felt like forever. My body may have felt like it had gone one on one with Brock Lesnar in a UFC ring, but the worst of it was over.
It took the doctors another day to agree I was stable enough to leave. They wanted to monitor me “just to be safe”—hospital code for “we don’t want to get sued if something goes wrong.” By that point, I would have signed my life away just to escape those beige walls. I would have, that is, had Jonah not made a fairly persuasive argument for staying one more day—one that involved his hands, the absence of Emily and the nursing staff, and absolutely zero spreadsheets. Fever-weakened or not, I was not exactly in a position to argue., and I was absolutely not complaining in the slightest.
When the doctor finally signs my discharge papers, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. Freedom. Sweet, glorious freedom frombeige walls and incessant beeping machines and the smell of antiseptic that’s been clinging to my skin for days.
“I’m serious about taking it easy for the next week,” the discharge nurse says, peering at me over her clipboard. “Those feet need time to heal properly.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding enthusiastically while mentally calculating how long I need to wait before I can convince Jonah to take me storm chasing again.
She narrows her eyes, clearly not buying my compliance. “I mean it. No unnecessary movement. Stay off your feet as much as possible.”
Emily appears in the doorway, car keys jangling from her fingers. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
“God, yes.”
The wheelchair ride to the parking lot feels like the slowest journey of my life. Every person in scrubs we pass seems determined to make small talk or just move at a glacial pace while I sit there fidgeting. By the time Emily helps me into the passenger seat of her car, my patience is hanging by the thinnest of threads.
“Easy there, Road Runner,” Emily laughs, buckling my seatbelt for me. “We’re going to the motel. Jonah’s waiting.”
I nod, sinking into the seat as Emily closes the door and rounds the car. The hospital recedes in the rearview mirror, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Emily drives with the kind of carefulness that makes me want to grab the wheel myself. She takes every turn like she’s navigating a minefield, checking her mirrors three times before changing lanes.
“Are you sure Jonah didn’t offer to come get me?” I ask, watching the speedometer stop at twenty-five in a thirty-five zone.
“He offered. I told him to stay with Max.” She glances at me. “Also, I wanted to talk to you alone.”
I feel my stomach drop. “About what?”
“About what you’re going to do when we get there.” Her eyes flick to me, then back to the road. “You know. With Jonah.”
“I’m going to say hello to him and then pass out on the first available horizontal surface,” I mutter. “What else would I do?”
Emily snorts. “Right. Because you two have been so chaste these past four days.”
I feel heat creeping up my neck. “We’ve been in a hospital, Em. There are like eighteen cameras in every room.”
“Mmhmm.” She taps the steering wheel. “And yet, when I came back from the cafeteria yesterday, you were both looking very flushed and Jonah was standing suspiciously far from your bed.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“I rest my case,” Emily says with a knowing smirk. Then her expression softens. “Look, Lila. I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.”
I brace myself for the big sister lecture. Here it comes.
“Don’t screw this up. Jonah’s different. I can see it in the way he looks at you. And I’ve never seen you this...I don’t know, happy? Even with everything that’s happened.”
I stare out the window at the passing buildings, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “I am happy,” I admit quietly. “Terrified, but happy.”
“Good.” Emily nods firmly. “Now, tell me everything about him. I need details. How big is his dick?”
