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MINKA
Doctor Cleary is obviously having a slow day today; either that, or she simply doesn’t care about the new cases coming through her emergency room doors, because she pulls up a seat beside mine and grins while another doctor—Doctor Grant—slowly pushes factor through my line.
Across the room, the door swings open, and Aubree storms through. Her knee bleeds too, her jeans are torn. But when she bleeds, and when I bleed, we get two entirely different outcomes.
“Oh my god.” Skidding into the room as relief washes over her features, Aubree snatches a rolling chair and comes to a stop in front of me. “I couldn’t find you!”
Back at the door, Tim steps into the room and places his back against the wall. The silent sentry. The guard dog watching Aubree’s back.
I close my eyes and work on my breathing so I don’t snap at my friends for caring. “I’m fine, Aubree.”
“You’re getting more medication, and you were a mere foot or two from the Opulus Killer today. You’re not okay!”
“I’m getting routine medication.” I speak slowly. Obsessively calm. “I’ll be up and moving in about ten more minutes.”
“One hour,” Doctor Grant cuts in. “Ten more minutes for infusion. The rest of the hour to collect your wits.”
“Twentyminutes,” I argue and meet Aubree’s eyes. “This is literally my life every second day. I don’t have time for sitting or being weird about it. What’s going on outside this room?”
“Mellet is still in surgery.” Aubree’s voice crackles. “But reports are coming back in a positive light. They’re managing his injuries, and his bleeding is under control. It sounds like he’s going to be okay, though the doctors won’t know till it’s complete and he’s rolled to post-op. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling intolerant of the questionhow am I feeling.”
I hiss and shoot a glare at Grant when the factor stings in my veins. “I’m fine. I was literally not harmed by anyone today. I bumped my knee. That’s it.”
“And yet,” Aubree looks down at my purpling leg as Doctor Cleary meticulously wraps it. “Looks kinda nasty. Will you be off for a few days?”
“Why the hell would I take time off for an injury that isn’t even an injury?”
“Because it’s an injury,” she sniggers. “Saying it’s not doesn’t magically make it all better.” She looks to Cleary. “Will she have to stay overnight?”
I snarl. “No!”
“No,” Cleary answers, gentler than me. “Another hour, and she can walk out of here with a spiffy new set of crutches.”
“Twenty minutes,” I growl. “No crutches.”
“Six hours,” Grant throws down. “And a wheelchair, rolled right into the media circus still waiting outside.”
His threat hits its bullseye, so I clamp my mouth shut and school my expression when his lips quirk into a smug grin.
“One hour,” I finally concede. “Crutches.”That I fully intend to toss into the trunk of the car and never get out again. “Have you got an update on Miranda London?”
“Only that she thinks you’re the best kisser she’s ever known.” Aubree places her hand on my good knee and tries to smile. She tries to make a joke of today. But her tone falls flat and her eyes shimmer with emotion. “No. Haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Do you know if she’ll live?” I look to Cleary. Then to Doctor Grant. “Does anyone know that much at least?”
“I don’t know.” Aubree takes out her phone and scrolls. “I haven’t been able to get an answer yet. I guess it’ll be a while till we hear. Seraphina Lewis has blown up our email, though; Mayor Lawrence wants to speak with you, and a Jen Lawrence,” she glances up and searches my eyes, “she’s looking for you too. Do you want me to follow those up?”
“No, I can do it.”
I look down as Grant pushes the last of the factor into my veins and removes the butterfly needle with practiced moves. He does it so I hardly feel a thing, then he slaps a Band-Aid on top and grins when my eyes narrow to slits.
“Thank you,” I grit out. “You can go now.”
He chokes out a fast laugh. “Can I? Gee, Doctor Mayet. Thank you for your permission.”
I roll my eyes and look to Doctor Cleary. “You too. I won’t leave this chair until the hour is up.”
