“I was injured, not lobotomized.”
Nara sits up and rubs a hand over her eyes. Her hair is crushed on one side, her blouse is wrinkled, and her expression contains the wrath of every nurse who has ever watched a patient confuse stubbornness with recovery. “Evie, you were assaulted last night by five gang members. You lost consciousness. You have bruised ribs, a swollen cheek, a cut near your temple, and the survival instincts of a decorative spoon.”
“A useful decorative spoon.”
“I hate you.”
“You slept in my chair. That means you love me.”
“That means I worried you would try exactly what you are trying right now.”
I push myself upright. The room tilts just enough to be rude, and I grip the sofa arm until it steadies. Pain ripples across my ribs, hot and mean, but it fades into a manageable throb after a few breaths. The apartment smells like antiseptic wipes,coffee gone stale, rain-damp clothes, and the faint sweetness of sugar rising from the bakery floorboards below. That smell slips straight through the pain and into the part of me that knows what must happen next.
“I have to open,” I say.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Darlene can open.”
“Darlene can run the counter, make soup, insult half the district, and smoke behind the building while pretending I don’t know. She cannot do the morning bake alone.”
“She absolutely can.”
“She’ll overproof the sweet rolls out of spite.”
“That is not a medical emergency.”
“It is to our customers.”
Nara stares at me in disbelief. “You are absurd.”
“I am committed.”
“You are concussed.”
“Mildly suspected.”
“I’m going to mildly suspect my foot up your ass.”
I laugh and immediately regret it. The laugh turns into a hiss as my ribs seize. Nara is out of the chair instantly, one hand braced against my shoulder.
“See?” she snaps. “This is exactly why.”
“I’m okay.”
“You are not okay.”
“I’m alive.”
“That is a low bar.”
“It’s a useful bar.”
Her face softens, and I hate it because softness is much harder to fight than medical tyranny. “Shy.”
I look down at my hands. The knuckles are scraped raw from the pavement. My nails are chipped. There is a faint tremor in my fingers that makes me curl them against my palms.
