But even through the haze, I can see the fear in his eyes.
Jonah is never careless with emotion. He keeps himself controlled so tightly it sometimes feels like he’s holding his entire life together through sheer discipline alone. Even when he’s embarrassed or flustered, he tries to hide it behind composure and logic.
“Lila!” His voice cuts through the cottony fog in my brain. “Stay with me. Eyes open.”
I try to focus on his face, but it keeps doubling and blurring. The road stretches ahead of us, endless and wavering.
“Stop yelling,” I mumble. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “Your lips are turning blue.”
“Impossible. I’m not a Smurf.” The joke falls flat even to my own ears. My words sound like they’re coming from someone else, someone far away.
Max whimpers again, his wet nose pressing against my cheek. The warmth of his breath grounds me for just a moment.
“Keep pressure on it,” Jonah instructs, his voice tight with strain. “I’m getting you to a hospital.”
I want to argue, tell him that hospitals mean paperwork and questions and being stuck in one place when there are storms to chase, but the energy for fighting drains out of me like the blood from my shoulder.
The truck hits a pothole, and pain lances through my entire body. I bite back a groan, not wanting to alarm him further, but he notices anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking. “I’m trying to go faster, but the roads...”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. The world tilts sideways again. “I don’t feel anything anymore.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He reaches over with one hand to press the makeshift bandage harder against my wound. I should be worried about this, I think distantly. The blood loss. The injury. But all I feel is a strange, floating detachment, like I'm hovering above myself.
“You should slow down,” I manage, though the words come out slurred. “If you crash...we’ll all...”
“I’m not losing you,” he says, the words clipped and fierce. “Not to this.”
The world tilts around me. I try to focus on his face, but it keeps swimming in and out of view.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Don’t go to sleep. Make fun of me. Tell me I’m the most boring person you’ve ever met. Just keep talking.”
“You’re the most...” I struggle to form words. “The most uptight professor I’ve ever met.”
“Good. Keep going.” His voice cracks . “What else?”
“Your shoes were ridiculous.” I smile weakly.
He laughs, but it sounds forced. “I know. You already made me buy boots, remember?”
“You looked...good in boots.”
“You’re delirious.”
“No.” I try to shake my head but the motion makes the world spin violently. “I mean it. You looked hot.”
Max whines again, pushing his nose against my cheek, but the feeling fades so fast. Like a blink of an eye as the floor falls out from beneath my feet. The black edges fill in my vision, leaving only the tiniest pinprick of light left. Barely a speck in a sea of endless night.
“Lila. Please. Please, I need you to stay awake. I can see the hospital.”
I try. I really do. My lashes flutter, and for a second before the world blips from existence, I hear a voice. One I haven’t heard in thirteen years.
Hey, storm girl.
Dad?
