I let my hand rest over his on my thigh. “It’s not just a phase, Mom,” I joked.
His laugh was soft. “Saw them on Warped in Toronto.”
My head lifted off my pillow. “You. Jack Leroy. You were an emo kid.”
“Guilty. Got a few tattoos myself to that effect.”
I shook my head. “You are full of surprises. I bet you were cute in eyeliner.”
“Don’t forget the black nail polish,” he said, squeezing my thigh. I almost lifted off the bed, the pain shooting up my side. “Fuck! Does that hurt?”
“Pretty bad,” I moaned.
“Shit. Shit. I’m sorry, Mara. Do you need some ice? Nurse!”
I hissed as the pain dissipated to an ache. “Shush, Jack. They’re busy. They’ll be back in like an hour.” I scratched my wrist where my hospital bracelet was giving me hives.
Jack lifted my arm, examining the rash. “Mara, are you having another reaction? Where’s your call button?”
“It’s just a side effect. I’m fine. The bracelet makes my wrist sweat, and sweat means hives right now.”
“Does it itch?” Jack was some combination of panicked and outraged.
“Well, yeah. It’s hives.”
Jack poked around me in the bed for a few seconds looking for my call button, then ran to the door and shouted down the hall. “Nurse!”
“Jack, stop it!”
He waved to someone in the hall, beckoning them our way. I put my head in my hands. My nurse ran in, looking bewildered as she checked my monitors.
“She needs ice for her EpiPen spots and she needs her hospital bracelet off.”
The nurse looked between us and sighed, putting out her hands. “I can get the ice, but I can’t take the bracelet off.”
“It’s giving her a rash,” Jack said, holding up my wrist. “She’s uncomfortable. You can’t figure out another place to put her bracelet? Look at these hives.”
“Jack, please, stop,” I argued.
“I really can’t take it off,” the nurse said.
Jack let my wrist go and stepped closer to my nurse. “You can and you will because you gave my wife a rash,” he said, his voice growing louder and more frantic. “And I don’t take well to people abusing my wife.”
My throat tightened again, a replay of yesterday’s drama. Did he call me his wife?
The nurse pulled a walkie-talkie out of her pocket. “Code gray in room 334, code gray.”
“What’s a code gray?” I asked, panic swelling inside me.
Two nurses came in the room, one a very intimidating-looking man with a shaved head and more tattoos than Jack somehow. “Is there a problem in here?”
“Yes, there’s a problem,” Jack said. “My wife is uncomfortable, and it needs to be fixed right fucking now.”
“I thought you said you weren’t together,” my nurse said, looking at me.
I rubbed my forehead. “We’re not.”
“Miss, is this man bothering you?” the wall of a man asked me.
