Page 53 of Petrify

Leaving is not an option. Going back is not an option.

I’m too caught up in ruminating on my way to the kitchen that I don’t notice someone standing at the end of the hallway. My shoulder collides with the form, the momentum causing me to stumble. “Oh! I’m so?—”

And then I see who it is I’ve run into.

Reece?

“Mallary!”

I blink in shock.

His hair is a mess, longer than when I last saw him. Circles darken the space under his eyes, but there’s still a brightness to his irises, a charm to his growing smile. “You’re still here,” he says, almost sounding relieved.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs. “I hoped that when I came back you’d still be here. I mean, we never got to talk much, and?—”

My eyes fall to the bandage wrapped around his hand. A thick white bandage, encasing his entire left hand, up past his wrist.

Degloved, Em said.

He glances down at it. “Oh yeah. This.” A laugh. “I’m alright. Hurt like a bitch, but the meds they’ve got me on are sweet.”

“I’m sorry that happened. I can’t imagine.”

“By all means, if you feel the need to coddle me.” His grin widens. “My offer from before still stands.”

I scowl, but I can’t really be mad. “Did they…”

“Walk with me, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He offers me his good arm.

“You’re not working, are you?” I don’t slip my arm through his, though I walk next to him. “I mean, there’s no way they’re expecting you to work with only one hand.”

He laughs again, unbothered by my small rejection. “No, I won’t be working for a while. I can hardly move my fingers.” His throat bobs, even though his smile doesn’t falter. “Just thought I’d come back and recover here.”

The way his voice softens a little has more questions springing to mind.

“They were able to save pretty much everything,” he says, steering us toward the staff wing. Breakfast will still be out for everyone. “Put everything back in the right spot and sewed meup. I just have to go to physical therapy and a bunch of doctor's appointments for the foreseeable future. You know how it is.”

“But you came back.”

He shrugs again. “I didn’t feel like going anywhere else. I have a few cousins not too far. But the Beauchenes were nice and paid for everything. Can you imagine? Losing a hand and then having to pay for it?”

It’s generous, for sure.

I don’t hear another word Reece says as he leads me to the kitchens. I help make him a plate of the usual fare, listening with unhearing ears as he prattles on about the strange event leading to his injury: the car had turned itself on, somehow, startling him so bad his hand got stuck. He doesn’t remember passing out. He doesn’t remember anything, up until he woke up in the hospital bed.

But the way he relays the story, you wouldn’t think he was traumatized at all.

I push away from the table once the clock on the wall ticks closer to the time my lesson is supposed to start.

Reece grabs my wrist with his good hand.

“I have to go to Henri,” I say.

“Eat with us tonight?” he asks, something hopeful shining in his eyes. At my hesitation, he groans playfully. “Come on, Mal, I just got back.”

Mal.