Jonah’s body tenses around me. I worry he’ll argue, but then he asks me quietly, “Can you make it so it can’t get out?”
I nod; he has to bring me close enough to lay a weak hand against the fresh plaster. Once I’m done, he says to Karl, “There. Contained. We’re going now.”
Kiah hesitantly steps forward. “Jonah, we need—”
“NO.” He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to keep words he’ll later regret it. “Right now, Chloe and I are going to go back to Annar to the hospital. You guys wanted one of these things—well, she got you one. Her work is done, at least for today.”
Kiah looks me right in the eyes. “Sweetie, we could really use your help before you go.”
My arm is dangling uselessly in my lap. My knee is at an awkward angle. Jonah’s got me lucid and pain free, but rationally, I know I must have a concussion. Broken bones. And I’ll be no good to anyone, least of all myself, if I try to work Magic when I’m not in top form. “I know,” I tell her and Karl. “And I want to help. But, I think it’s best that I get myself checked out first. Right?”
Karl scrubs at his hair. “I’m an asshole for even suggesting anything else. Sorry, Chloe.”
I give him what I hope is a warm smile, but Jonah’s worked it so I literally can’t feel anything associated with my body.
Kellan meets us at the car. He’s clearly trying to contain his anger, too, but whereas I can feel Jonah’s trembling, I see it in Kellan’s hands. “Let me drive you guys.”
Jonah goes to argue, something about needing his brother to stay back and make sure things are okay, but Kellan counters with, “She needs someone to sit with her in the back so there’s no more damage. You sit with her. I’ll drive.”
Karl is outside, watching us. So are a lot of other people, all looking remorseful. I refuse to look at any of them any longer, because, surprise, surprise, once again, the mighty Creator proves herself to be as fragile as everyone thinks.
Jonah finally agrees; Kellan opens the back door of the SUV I’d rented and helps his brother load me in. During the drive, he fiddles with the car radio until he finds a station he knows I like. And then nobody says anything out loud for the rest of the drive.
Kate Blackthorn sends both guys out into the hallway before examining me. They’re reluctant, but they go. “Those two,” she says fondly, shaking her head. Or at least I think she’s shaking her head, but she’s all blurry. “Stubborn as mules.”
Before they left, though, Kate had Jonah revert my feelings and focus back to where he found me. He’d fought with her, but caved when she said she needed to assess me in my true state. I’m once more nearly blinded with pain, and my head is spinning. My eyes can’t focus on any single thing.
She takes care of the concussion first before getting to work on the broken wrist and knee. Warm hands press against my wounds, knitting bone back together and smoothing skin whole. She’s just about to help me sit up when she pauses. “What’s this?”
Her hands hover over my lower abdomen. My eyes widen. “I’m not pregnant!” I blurt out.
She chuckles and yet still frowns. “Dear girl, what with your hymen being intact and all,”—my cheeks blaze, holy hell, I’m going to die of embarrassment, this is Jonah’s mom’s best friend—“I certainly wouldn’t assume that’s the case. Although, I’ll admit I’m quite surprised that you’re still a virgin.” OFFICIALLY DYING. And seriously, a good point. But still. DYING. “But I was referring to a rather nasty ulcer you have.”
Ulcer? I struggle to sit up, but the Shaman pushes me back down. Her hands, warm again against my bare skin, press into my belly.
“How long have you been experiencing symptoms?”
I’ve got to be fire engine red now. “You mean, stomach aches and all?” She nods, so I say, “Um, a few months?”
Her hands move away, only to help me finally sit up. Then they settle on her hips. “Why didn’t you come see me?”
I tug at the hem of the backless dressing gown hospitals insist on patients wearing during exams. “I guess I assumed it was from stress.”
Rapid-fire questions shoot out from Kate’s lips until it’s determined that I got myself into a vicious cycle this year. My headaches stemmed from stress. The ibuprofen I’ve eaten like candy tore into my stomach and caused an ulcer. Stress exacerbated the ulcer and headaches. I took more pain relievers, hoping to find relief to only make the ulcer worse. The worse it got, the more meds I took. I created a monster.
“You need to cut down on stress,” she says to me, like it’s an easy thing.
Of course. How stupid of me. I’ll get right on that.
“You’ve also lost a lot of weight since I saw you last,” she says, looking down at her chart. “That’s from the ulcer and stress, too. You’d been at a healthy weight, Chloe. Losing too much too quickly isn’t good for your body.”