“Yeah, so you almost bled out, big deal. I’m three to your one.”
“Well, I’m pregnant, so I’m due for a hospitalization this year,” I said, processing the words as I spoke them.
Ryan laughed. “Wait…what?” he said, his face morphing from amusement to concern.
I looked to Claire. “You didn’t tell him?”
She shrugged, her platinum, angled tresses bouncing when she did so. “It’s your business to tell. Way to dump it on him, stupid.”
I frowned. Ryan mirrored my expression. “Congratulations,” he said. He glanced to Jared, sent him a lightning-fast dirty look, and then returned his focus to me. He pushed up in bed, sitting taller.
“Say it,” Jared said.
Claire watched the exchange, clearly unhappy. I wasn’t sure if she was just sensing Ryan’s change in mood, or if it was her own reaction to the sudden, unpleasant turn in conversation.
“It’s not my place to say anything,” Ryan said.
“You have my permission,” Jared said. After his last word, he gestured for Ryan to continue.
Ryan rolled his eyes and looked to Claire. “Isn’t this exactly what none of you wanted to happen?”
Claire seemed uncomfortable answering for her brother, but she quickly shrugged it off. “Yes and no. Not going along with the prophecy in Shax’s book would have been the safer route—in theory—but Hell would more than likely still anticipate its completion. Now that it’s happened, it’s a means to an end. We have a better chance at getting Heaven on our side.”
Ryan was right to ask Claire. Jared was well known for lengthy explanations. Claire went right to the point.
Ryan’s eyes drifted away from Claire to me. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Great. Fantastic, actually. I feel like I could run a marathon.”
Ryan smiled. “That’s good.” He turned to Claire. “That’s good, right?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan shrugged, “I thought you might know better than anyone else.”
Claire stood, laughing once. “I’m hardly the expert. It’s never been an option for me, so I didn’t bother asking my mother about the details.”
“Why wouldn’t it be an option?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Because I’m busy.”
“With what?” he said, dubious.
Claire placed both of her palms facedown on the bed and looked at Ryan. “Keeping you alive.”
Ryan’s hand slid slowly across the blanket. His fingers layered hers. “Well...what if we were together? That could make it an option.”
Claire straightened quickly and crossed her arms. “Dream on.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. He enjoyed unsettling Claire far too much for his own good. “Am I wrong?”
“First of all,” she said, shifting her weight, “it’s never going to happen. Second, I’d have a hard time protecting you when I’m as round as a bowling ball.”
“I bet you could,” Ryan said. “I can stay out of trouble for nine months.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “You can’t stay out of trouble for one month. You’ve been hospitalized, had major surgeries, and needed extensive rehabilitation three times in as many years.”
His eyes turned soft. “I would if I had to. I’d do it for you.”
She cupped her hand over his mouth. “Shut up.”
Jared fidgeted, feeling out of place. “Uh…we should go.”
“No!” Claire said. She pulled back her hand and wiped it on her leggings. “No, you should stay. I’ll uh...I’ll get more chairs.”
“I’ll help you,” Jared said. He briefly kissed my cheek before following Claire into the hall.
“Wow,” I said, taking a seat beside the bed. “You can clear a room better than I. And that’s saying something.”
Ryan frowned. “She’s tough. Tougher than you.”
“Without a doubt,” I nodded.
“No…I mean yes, but not in the physical way. She’s here every second while I heal. I know she has to watch over me, but she doesn’t have to sit beside my bed and hold my hand.”
“She holds your hand?”
Ryan offered a half-smile. “The first morning—when I woke up—she was holding my hand with both of hers. The second I opened my eyes, she let go. But yes, she did.”
“Okay, but you don’t have to torture her. By her actions, she must care about you. This is Claire you’re dealing with. You can’t force it.”
Ryan turned on his side, leaning on his elbow. “Nina, you’re pregnant. Some rough shit is going to go down. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day you give birth to Lil’ Bitty Saint Ryel.” He pointed to my stomach, “But I think we can all agree that taking time for granted is precarious.”
“Precarious,” I said. “I’m so impressed.”