Fuck.
That made my heart feel like it was too big for my damn chest.
“Well, good. Because I’m definitely in love with you.”
Alara - 1 day
The second my eyes opened, the pain started.
In my foot, my face, the side where the attacker’s arms wrapped too tightly around me to drag me up to Zeno’s apartment.
Then there was the pounding in my head, the nausea rolling in my stomach, and a dizziness I didn’t expect. I didn’t know a lot about chloroform, but I didn’t imagine inhaling it was good for you. Maybe this was a hangover from that.
Under all that, though, was a sore throat from hell.
Like I’d been gargling glass and rocks at the same time.
There was something else, though.
A too-hot feeling in my face.
When I reached up, I was clammy to the touch.
Did Char and I catch the same bug?
Did I have that to look forward to on top of everything else?
Needing something cold to drink, some meds, and to complain to a sympathetic ear, I slid off the bed and swiveled on my good foot to drop my ass into the electric wheelchair Christopher must have moved in sometime while I was passed out.
I hoped for his sake—as the only well and uninjured person in the house—that he got at least a few hours of sleep.
It took me a second to figure out the knob on the chair. I still managed to ram the foot into the doorway twice before I got through it, but I imagined this was leaps and bounds better than crutches.
“You good?” Christopher asked, turning away from the stove where he had a giant steaming stockpot situated.
That had to be the soup.
“Never driven anything in my life,” I admitted. “There’s a learning curve.”
“That there is,” he agreed, his gaze moving over me.
Mine moved around the house but found neither of the kids lounging around.
“Liam insisted on taking Tuna for his walk. Char was up for a while, but the cold meds knocked her ass right back out.”
“How are they both?”
“Liam is pretending nothing hurts. Char is doing enough moaning and groaning for the two of them.”
“Hey, Christopher?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I have a temperature?”
“Uh-oh,” he said, wincing as he moved over toward me and pressed his wrist to my forehead. “Yeah, you’re warm. Like you don’t have enough going on, huh?”
“Right?”
