“Hmm?” I swing open the fridge, busying my hands, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“You went outside just now. Why?”
“What, are you the fucking flower police?” I snap, stomping over to the table with a plate of Hilde’s pastries. My hands are clammy, and I can feel my cheeks flushing.
“Um. What?”
“What?”
Andrea’s expression hardens as she studies me. “What the hell are you talking about? Flower police? Why are you so weird?”
My brain scrambles, and I stutter, not at all suspiciously, “I, uh, I was checking the flower boxes. I noticed they’re getting dry. We’ve barely had any rain lately.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” Andrea digs back into her bowl, then smirks. “You’re going to be one of those, aren’t you?”
“One of what?”
She rolls her eyes. “One of those people who can’t stop talking about the weather. How much rain we get. You’re going to hate it here in the winter, I bet.”
The pastry turns to ash in my mouth, but I force down the last bite. If only I could worry about the fucking weather and how much rainfall we get. If only I had the luxury of knowing I’d still be here when winter comes.
We finish breakfast in silence. Keeping my hands busy, I take her dishes and clean up, while my mind races through the rest of the day. With no reason left to stall, I head outside, and Andrea follows.
“I’d like to swing by the hospital, visit Doc and Lily,” I say, keeping my voice even. Andrea nods, but when I add, “We should take the truck,” she eyes me.
“Alright. It’s a little hot today, anyway.”
I slide into the passenger seat, and my eyes drift to the dashboard. “Looks like the tank is kinda low. We should fill it up after. You have any cash on you?” I ask, keeping my gaze fixed on the side mirror.
She doesn’t read into it. “No, but I’ll grab some at the hospital. We don’t need to get gas, though, I can make one of the enforcers do it.”
I shake my head. “No, it’ll be nice to get out of here for a bit. Besides, you heard what Kendrick said yesterday. They aren’t worried about the witches coming here.”
Andrea opens her mouth to argue, but I raise my hand. “Look, I’m going stir-crazy here. After that bombshell about Kendrick yesterday, I just need a little space to breathe, stretch my legs.Awayfrom here. You know?”
She lets out a frustrated breath. “Fine. A quick trip off the mountain, that’s it. And only because the enforcers haven’t found any traces of witch activity.”
I keep my face neutral, hiding my relief. When we reach the hospital and Andrea parks, I’m out of the truck before she cuts the engine. “I’ll just pop in and check on Lily for a minute,” I call over my shoulder.
“Okaay…” Andrea trails behind me, at a slower pace. I try not to rush, but I’m inside the hospital ahead of her. Doc isn’t in the lobby, and I exhale quietly. I strain my ears toward the hallway and catch the soft sounds of movement from behind Lily’s closed door. The sharp tang of disinfectant hangs in the air, but Lily’s notably absent.
I duck into an empty room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He keeps the medication in the drawers on the far left. Hurry.
Thank you,I tell Beep. Doc keeps the same layout in every room, so anyone can find what they need at any time. Pulling the drawer open, I spy several bottles of medication, the same kind Doc gave me after Andrea nearly killed me at the beginning of the summer. I saw him administer the same meds to Lily, too. My hands move quickly, tucking the vials into my waistband and throughout my pockets. Packaged syringes go into my socks. The drawer clicks shut just as the door swings open.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh? Oh, just fixing my socks.” I shrug, walking past Andrea. Doc is back at the front desk in the empty waiting room.
“Mona, dear, what brings you by?”
“Hey Doc. Sorry, I got the rooms mixed up. I thought Lily was in that one—anyway, where’d she go?”
Doc and Andrea exchange a look that says they aren’t buying it—or it’s a look that says I sound like an idiot. Either would be accurate. I’m not built for subterfuge. Whatever, it doesn’t matter if my excuse sounds flimsy. Right now I’ve got bigger problems—like, how to walk when I’ve got stolen glass vials hidden in my pants, threatening to slip down my legs and clank around my ankles with each step. At least my pant legs are tucked into my socks. I’m surprised Andrea hasn’t commented on the strange fashion choice yet.
I paste on my brightest smile. Doc’s eyebrows knit together, stirring the cloud of white hair above them.
