“Meg, how did you do that?” Evan asked, determined to get some answers.
“I think I can intensify my empath connection with physical contact. The more contact, the clearer the connection. Cole has so much sadness over losing his mother. The blackness was strangling him. I prayed for strength to pull it away from him.” She was mumbling toward the end of her explanation as exhaustion crashed over her.
“Sleep for a while, Meg. You earned it.” Meg heard pride in her mother’s voice, but what really made Meg smile as she drifted off was the feel of her best friend snuggling his nose under her hand and letting out an exasperated huff.
Chapter 12 Farrow’s Choice
“You don’t have to do that,” Farrow said to the hands repositioning her blanket over her shoulders. Her back was still turned to the world. She had been staring at a speck on the galley wall seven inches from her nose.
“I know.” It was a male voice, but Farrow refused to turn around to look anyone in the eye.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No.”
“I brought you a plate of food anyway. It’s nothing fancy, just rehydrated chicken noodle soup, some crackers. There’s also some applesauce, I think. It’s hard to tell. The mashed potatoes were edible, if you add a packet of salt and pepper,” the voice smiled.
Farrow could smell the food. It made her mouth water. All she had eaten in days was military MREs, but she didn’t deserve to eat, certainly not food given to her by these good people. She couldn’t speak.
“I don’t know if you heard the commotion awhile back,” the voice kept talking, “but the other person who was injured finally regained consciousness.” He paused, giving her a chance to respond.
“We are all pretty relieved. He’s still sick, but at least he can talk to his dad. Dr. Andrews has been so worried about him.” The voice kept talking. Farrow heard a cellophane wrapper crinkle and imagined the person opening the utensil packet.
Her stomach betrayed her and let out a determined growl.
The voice chuckled. “I think your stomach is trying to tell you something.”
Farrow sighed and rubbed the puffiness around her eyes with her fist. She looked like a little girl, so small and fragile, her frame barely lifting the blanket off the gurney.
She held still for a moment.
Her companion waited patiently.
“You’re not going away until I eat something, are you?” She asked, exasperated.
“Nope,” he said.
With a huff, she sat up and regretted it. The pain in her abdomen was still crisp. Her head spun with the sudden change of position. She closed her eyes against it and steadied herself. When she opened them she was staring into the concerned face of the target known as M61—Alik Winter.
“Take it easy on yourself, kid. Evan’s a great surgeon and you’re a meta, but it still takes time to heal,” Alik gently scolded.
Farrow took a slow deep breath, inhaling more of the delicious scent of food. Her eyes followed her nose. Watching her closely, Alik smiled smugly as he finished readying her tray and carefully positioned it onto her lap. “Eat slowly, Farrow. Evan says the bullet did some damage to your intestines he had to repair, which is why the semi-solid meal here. He wants you to sit for a few minutes between bites, just in case your body revolts.”
Alik smiled widely and continued, “Which is why I also brought an ample supply of these handy vomit bags.” He held them up like a host on a game show and waved his hand around them with flair.
Farrow couldn’t stop herself from giggling.
Alik was mesmerized at the sound of her laughter. He had to peel his eyes off her smile so as not to look like a dumb-ass by staring.
Farrow daintily stirred the soup before trying to lift a spoonful to her lips, but her hand was shaking too badly. She frowned as though accusing it of turning traitor before trying again, with the same messy result.
Alik tried not to watch, but couldn’t help noticing her frustration. Deciding it was too painful not to help, he started babbling to hide what his hands started to do.
“So, I should tell you about the first time Jacobi and Trainer tried flying us stateside. What a wild ride that was!” Alik kept talking as he gracefully lifted the soup bowl into his hands and maneuvered the spoon to Farrow’s lips slowly, allowing her time to savor and her body to adjust to the food. Farrow felt awkward at first, being fed like a baby, but after a minute, she was so immersed in Alik’s story, she didn’t even notice.
After she finished the soup, Alik opened the applesauce thinking she might like something sweet. All this he did without missing a beat in the retelling of the story—skipping the life-or-death parts and focusing on the excitement and adventure in a way only Alik could.
Farrow put her hand on Alik’s as he lifted another spoonful of applesauce for her.
“Are you full?” he asked, interrupting his own story.