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for, and there was never money to waste on frippery such as toys.

Tears prick my eyes as I squish it between my hands, letting my fingers learn the sensations. I’d

seen Littles and their stuffies at Black Light, but none of them had ever offered one for me to play

with, and that was fine. I was the epitome of ‘stranger danger’ to them since I almost never look

inviting.

But having one of my own, one to hold close… I can see the appeal. I’m not going to deck my

house out with them, but I suppose I have room for just this one. Even though it’s out of place, it will

remind me of Lila whenever we’re not together, and that’s reason enough to have it out and not hide it

away.

CHAPTER 18

A iden

AS I WAKE, I STRETCH OUT, NEARLY KNOCKING THE COLD STUFFIE OFF THE BED. I SNAG IT FROM THE

edge and clutch it close to me with an insane urge to apologize to it, which should tell me that I’m

nowhere close to being better—however, I can’t actually say that.

From yesterday to today, I can objectively say that there’s been a marked improvement in my

symptoms. I’m not one hundred percent yet, but I’m certainly leaps and bounds better than yesterday.

My breathing is better; I’m not nearly as achy; and the chest congestion has certainly cleared up.

The only thing that’s still really bothering me is the lingering fatigue that plagues me whenever I’m

sick. Pulling out my phone, I skim through the messages from Lila and smile with how many times

she’s checked in on me. Unfortunately, between the hot toddy, bath, and chicken soup, I was soon out

and didn’t hear any of the dings.

Luckily, an emergency surgeon was already on standby after I told him I wasn’t feeling well so the

only messages I missed were from Lila and not the team. Sitting up, I fire off a message telling her

she’s won her wager. There’s no way around it, and I refuse to lie to win a stupid bet. That’s just not

my way. If I’m going to win, I want to win the right way.

Almost instantly, she messages back with instructions for the day and how to keep healing. I have

no choice but to listen to her. The more I’m around her, the less I feel I know, and it both rankles me

and gives me further appreciation for her. Time and again, she keeps showing me how she’s

knowledgeable and her opinions are valid, and I refuse to listen.

But now, even though it’s anecdotal, I have to face the fact that she has methods that aren’t found