AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-four
Mending
I smelled Emily’s shampoo, and my mouth turned up at the corners. I was lying face down on clean cotton sheets, one arm under pillows, the other draped over the side of a bed. When I opened my eyes, she was inches away, watching me.
“Hi,” I said in a gravelly voice.
She bit her lip and swallowed hard. “Hi.”
The bedding beneath me was a deep shade of burgundy, and I knew we were no longer in the Fordham house. I glanced briefly around the room. Antique cherry dresser, highly ornate vintage armoire—this would be Southmont.
“How are you?” I asked Emily, and a shaky, breathless laugh escaped her. She’d been watching me for how long? Worried because I’d been shot. I rolled to my side to face her, cupped a hand on her cheek. “I’m fine.”
She was suddenly crying, and I pulled her to me for a hug. “What is it?” I whispered. “Is it Brianna?”
She tilted her head to look at me, wiping absently at her cheek. “No, I… I’m sorry. Everything is fine.” She took a deep breath. “Brianna is downstairs. She’s had a lot of work to do, but she’s fine. Everyone, everyone is fine.”
I sat up, keeping her near as I moved to question her.
She waved a hand. “Logan said you would ask. He said they were trained men, but never hit a lethal mark. Something about brotherhood”—she took another deep breath, this one seemed to steady her—“and that Morgan hadn’t prepared them ahead of time. He said to tell you that was what saved us.” A bit of guilt crossed her face and she looked away.
“What else, Emily?”
She sighed heavily. “And me,” she said. “He said to tell you me.”
Relief flooded me, but I managed to narrow my eyes on her. “So you have Logan taking your side now?”
Her gaze swept up to mine, still damp with tears, and I could see her repentance. “It was so stupid,” she said. “I could have messed up everything.”
“It was stupid,” I said, bringing her chin back up. “But thank you.”
My wrists were clean and smooth. I stretched, testing out my side. “I feel great, actually. How long was I out?”
She glanced at the clock. “About six hours,” she said.
“No, I mean altogether.”
She looked at the clock once more, nodding. “Yeah, that’s about right. The doctors stitched you up a bit.” She glanced down, twisting the hem of her clean white shirt. “They made me go take a shower.” She looked sick at the memory of leaving me, shot in five or six places, and then swallowed hard. “And then Brianna saw you.”
It seemed to be an explanation, though at first I couldn’t understand why. This amount of damage, surgeon or no, should have taken much, much longer to heal. And then, slowly, her words fell together. Brianna was downstairs, she had a lot of work to do, but everyone was fine.
I stared at her.
She nodded.
I closed my eyes for one long moment, remembering the words they’d shared in the tunnel before our escape. Brianna had said she bore her mother’s gifts. Plural. An image of the wounds Emily had left on my arms came then, and the way they’d healed in minutes instead of days. Without the benefit of sleep.
“Brianna is a healer,” I breathed. I should have felt it in her touch, should have known.
“No,” Emily said, confused.
“But…” I glanced down, feeling nothing but well. “How…”
She grimaced. “Brianna didn’t heal you, Aern.” She placed a hand over my palm. “Shefixedyou.”
I sat still for so long, Emily’s head tilted, as if she wasn’t certain I was behind my vacant stare.
When I blinked, she spoke again. “She made those connections, Aern. The ones our mother taught her to.” I opened my mouth with a horrified protest, but she stopped me. “Not all of them, not the ones with the influence,” she explained. “Just to help you all heal faster.”
