Page 67 of Quiver

“What did she say?” Fletcher asked as Kylie ended the call.

“Keep the arrow stable and stanch the blood. She’ll meet us at the door to the emergency room with a gurney and a team of people. You’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t argue. She didn’t doubt she’d survive the wound, but she did have some concerns about the pain driving her mad in the interim. “Maybe if I close my eyes, I could sleep—”

“No!” Ava and Kylie shouted in unison, causing her eyes to shoot open again.

“You need to stay with me,” Kylie continued as she began stripping out of her flannel shirt, then the cream waffle weave she wore underneath.

“If you’re trying to distract me, this is awkward.”

“But it’s working.” Kylie grinned. “You’re thinking about something else, and I’m getting the cleanest item of clothing I have to wrap around the arrow.”

“Two birds … one bra.” Fletcher laughed slightly, then gasped as Kylie wrapped the shirt around her torso.

“I’m sorry.”

“Another apology,” Fletcher grunted. “You have great timing.”

“Hey, at least I meant this one.”

“Now there’s a topic to distract me.”

“Really? You pick this moment to have that talk?”

Fletcher shook her head, causing sweat to roll down the side of her neck. “No. I’m bleeding from the side, not the brain.”

Kylie squeezed her hand. “Then give me something else to work with here. I’m an apt conversationalist, but I’ve never seen anyone run through with an arrow, so I don’t know my social cues in this setting.”

She felt herself slipping a little and tried to hold onto Kylie’s presence tighter. “Take my mind off the pain.”

“Okay, okay.” Kylie sighed. “Something to take your mind off the pointed shaft oozing blood from your side, not a tall order at all. And my breasts alone aren’t enough to do it?”

Fletcher’s eyes flickered over the thin, satin cups and the rise and fall of her chest. “They do help a little.”

“A little?” Kylie scoffed, then brightened as if she had an idea. “Hey, do you remember the horrible college production I did where I was supposed to change clothes mid-number, but I’d forgotten my slip.”

Fletcher laughed and immediately regretted it. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I whipped off the frock and the cold breeze hit my stomach.”

“You kept dancing in your bra and underwear.”

“The show must go on.”

“Always.” Fletcher didn’t mean to sound resentful, but at least Kylie seemed to chalk it up to the pain, and gently caressed her face, wiping sweat from her brow with her flannel. Fletcher turned her head toward the touch, no longer strong enough to refuse such a small measure of solace.

“Remember the time in high school when I was doing Guys and Dolls and you slipped real whiskey into my drink during the cabana scene?”

“You kept drinking even when you realized.”

She grinned. “I was totally lit by the time we made it back to your hayloft.”

“I wish I had whiskey now.”

Kylie’s voice dropped an octave. “I wish we were in the hayloft now.”

Fletcher sighed and pressed her cheek into Kylie’s palm. “I’m sorry about that, too.”