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“How is she?” I whispered. I rubbed absently at a pain in my chest.
Ezra sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. “Exhausted. Her voice is hoarse.”
“Is that normal?”
“The nurse said with really severe attacks, they can basically deplete their energy trying to breathe. She’ll get it back. Her lungs didn’t fail, so that’s a good thing.”
“I don’t understand what the hell happened.” My voice was rising and with difficulty I kicked my volume down a notch. “I ran beside her on the treadmill the other day and she ran seven miles, Ez. Seven freaking miles. She took a single puff on her inhaler—”
“You knew about her asthma?”
“I mean, she didn’t tell me she had asthma. But I saw her inhaler.” Ezra folded a biscuit sandwich in its wrapper and took a bite. It was probably driving him nuts to eat something that wasn’t healthy. “How could she run seven miles and be fine but then have an attack at a party? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It is what it is, Gale. Any number of things could have triggered it. We were dancing and the air was cold and dry, and there was smoke from a bonfire...”
I ran my hand around the back of my neck in frustration. “How do you stop it from happening again if you don’t know exactly what caused it?”
“Galen.” Jude’s thin, reedy whisper drew our attention.
Ezra hissed. “Damnit, you woke her up—”
Jude’s eyes were open and fixed on me. “I’m fine,” she said, though whether it was to Ezra or me, I wasn’t sure. I stood again and shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Good.” I found myself bobbing my head, unsure what to say. “Good. I’m glad you’re okay.”
What the hell was wrong with me? I needed to get out of this place. All of this—the hospital with its sterile air and oxygen cannulas, Jude and Baron lying in that bed—all of it was messing with my head.
“I’ll get back to pissing you off again real soon,” she continued slowly. “You can get back to hating me.”
“Right. Okay.” I gave a slight head shake. “Wait. No. That’s not… you’re not pissing me off, Jude.”
“But you’re always angry at me.” Baron’s eyes were open now, too, and at her statement his hand twitched protectively on her hip. Jude’s tone was small and bewildered rather than contrary. Somehow, I knew we were seeing a Jude that she didn’t reveal very frequently, and probably wouldn’t be showing now if she weren’t sick. I wondered how much of this conversation she would remember later.
It steadied me some, her fragility. “I’m angry all the time.” I hesitated, looking at Baron and then Ezra, and then firmed my lips. It was nothing they didn’t already know. “It’s not about you. Not totally, anyway.” My voice softened. “I don’t hate you, Jude. Not even a little.”
“I don’t hate you, either. But do you want me to leave?”
I shifted my weight. “It’s November. I think we’re past that.” Muscles held tight in her face relaxed subtly. “But don’t expect me to be Mr. Rogers or some shit. I’m still an asshole.”
Baron snorted. “Heaven forbid you’re no longer an asshole.”
Jude’s lips were curved the barest amount and she snuggled into Baron’s side. “Can deal with... asshole. As long…” Her voice grew fainter as she slid back into sleep. “... you want me…”
The room was quiet as she dropped, and then Ezra released a little breath of laughter. “Not a problem, is it guys?”
I shuffled backwards, a lump rising in my throat. It was so easy for them. Ezra could look at a situation andif A then Buntil it made sense. Baron observed the people involved, determined their needs, wants, and courses of action, and knew how to adjust.
I didn’t have their same adaptability. I looked at what was happening, what was obvious between us all, and I wanted to run. I needed to leave, before the inevitable happened, and someone left me.
Whirling, I fled.
Chapter 33: Baron
When are you going to be back?
Ezra:within the hour
Hurry. You’re making the margaritas and Jude’s class is out in thirty.
