“Should I text Caro?”
“No,” I said weakly. “She will get in touch when she knows more. In fact, when I get out of here, you should go back.” Running a damp hand through my hair and pushing back the strands lingering on my forehead, I thought back to Christmaswhen I’d dressed to impress Donovan. “My mom insists you get Valerie and bring her back here.” I spoke softly, wondering how I would function on my own, unsure if this was the worst of it.
I hadn’t mentioned the small tremor I got in my left hand every couple of minutes; I kept balling my fingers to cover it up.
“I will do no such thing.” Donovan appeared in the bathroom, not bothering to knock. “I did what I was told to do, ‘chaperoned’ you here.” He said the last part with air quotes. “I supervised the transfer of feelings, which rendered you sick, and I need to own that.”
He leaned his butt against the same vanity I’d been sitting on when he brought me into the bathroom. When he crossed his arms over his chest, I couldn’t help but stare. At some point he’d changed out of his suit and put on a T-shirt and shorts, his biceps bulging. Under different circumstances, I might have been curious to see more.
“I need to fucking own that,” he repeated.
“Please don’t feel guilty.” I finally found my words. “I did this. I had to do this. You know the play of power with Ezza. She says to jump, and I do it.”
His voice came out hoarse with emotion— “No, I should have asked if there were risks, what could happen. I never bothered to consider that or imagined they actually knew something like this could.”
Closing my eyes, I dipped a tad deeper into the water, covering my shoulders. I wanted to get out, and I also never wanted to leave this bathtub. “You underestimated them. It doesn’t matter—go and get Valerie. They’re going to make her miserable, and all she’s doing is being near her daughter. I will heal. I hope.” I tried to argue, never opening my eyes, the end part coming out faint.
“I refuse to leave you.” Donovan pushed off the counter and padded toward the tub.
My eyes were fully open now, watching his chest heave with conviction like a tiger after his prey. A tear fell down my cheek, and I managed to croak out, “My throat hurts.” It was yet another new symptom, except it wasn’t why I was crying. I realized the momentary chill I felt when Donovan was near was missing. Our special yin-yang connection he knew nothing about had disappeared. And I wondered why it did, along with wanting an explanation for how it made me feel so bereft.
“Let’s get you out of the water and into a robe. I can order some soup or tea?” Donovan grabbed a towel and held it up before bending to lift me out.
There was no arguing left in me. I couldn’t imagine bracing myself with my trembling hand or standing on my limp legs. All I could do was hope I got better.
And the little girl inside me, the one who’d watched the snowfall from the window, wishing she was outside playing in it rather than listening to her mother, moments before her power showed, pined for the boy this time. Could he be hers?
Donovan
It was late, and the sidewalks were flooded with people out for a raunchy, sensual, hot, exciting, or whatever type of night. I sped past lovers holding hands and groups of women celebrating birthdays and bachelorette parties. My feet hit the pavement with a ferociousness I’d pay for in the morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My body was strung out on fatigue and hungover on scotch and my mother’s bitching.
Earlier, I’d helped Tulya out of the tub and into a robe, tucked her in bed and fed her some soup. She didn’t know I saw her hand trembling, and I could tell she wasn’t up for discussing it. But I’d clocked it long before she went into the bathroom.
It had been more than twenty-four hours since she lost consciousness, and her symptoms were not abating. In fact, they were gaining momentum.
With sweat dripping down my back as I ran, I knew it didn’t matter how many miles I completed; I would not forget the wayshe’d swallowed the tea—as if it was sandpaper on the inside of her throat. To be sure it wasn’t a virus, I’d felt her forehead, and she seemingly had no fever. But Tulya’s body was unforgiving when it came to what her own mother tasked her to do.
I’d tried texting the medic and he only answered with a curt:It will pass.
I replied:What the fuck? She needs help.
He didn’t respond to my venom, only wrote:Examining Blake and making sure she’s settled.
Lord…it was his way of letting me know I had to deal with Valerie, or he wasn’t helping with Tulya.
Turning back toward the hotel, I ground into the pathway along the beach, cursing my brother with every step. I wasn’t sure when I became Magnum’s keeper, maybe always, but I didn’t like that it cost Tulya pain. And my power was to put agony on others; what a strange dichotomy in my life.
I could’ve run all night, but I wanted to get back to Tulya. I needed a shower and some food. I wasn’t thinking of myself, only the woman asleep in her bed, who needed me. She’d mumbled something about my deal and going to Hawaii, not to put that off for her. But Christ, she could be permanently damaged because of my brother.
Slowing my pace, I drafted a text to him, stomping around in a circle and breathing heavy.
Then, I deleted it. Fuck him, he didn’t have the strength to man up and handle his business when it came to my mother. Fooled around and fucked up and made a clusterfuck of a mess…that was Magnum.
Deciding to walk, allowing the ocean breeze to run through my damp hair, I felt my pulse starting to normalize.
My phone buzzed, and I almost ignored it until I saw it was Caro.
I knew she and Tulya had always had their differences, but the sisters appeared to have one another’s backs. Caro had limited powers if I was correct—she could bestow tranquility—which was useful at times but only lasted so long. Most of the time, she relied on her electric personality.
