She pauses, then nods. “Deal.”
I keep my eyes on the road, tapping a little faster. “So… you got plans Thursday?”
She turns her head slowly, unimpressed. “Really.”
“What?” I ask, totally innocent.
She gives me a look. “You know this is like calling a girl the same day she gives you her number.”
“I did call you the same day,” I remind her.
“Yes,” she says, “you did.”
I shrug, trying not to smile too big.
I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “I’m free Friday.”
I nod my head to an invisible beat. “Cool.”
When I pull up to the house, Genesis is pacing outside. I barely put the car in park before she yanks open the passenger door.
She fusses over Lore like a mother hen on steroids, hands everywhere, voice sharp with worry. I get out too and circle the hood, standing beside her as she mutters, “You should’ve called me. I was ten minutes away.”
I clear my throat. “Let’s get her inside, ya?”
Gen shoots me a side eye but steps back. “Fine.”
Lore tries to stand, but the second she puts any weight on her legs, they buckle. I sweep her up before she can hit the ground. Her fingers clutch instinctively at my shirt; her face tucked against my neck.
Gen’s eyes widen. “Maybe we should go back to the hospital.”
Lore shakes her head weakly. “Some weakness is normal,” she murmurs, still staring at my collar.
Gen goes quiet and opens the front door for us.
I shift Lore in my arms and start toward the sofa, but Gen clicks her tongue.
“Straight to bed.”
“Gen, I’m fine,” Lore protests.
Gen ignores her completely and says to me, “Go.”
I nod and adjust my grip, carrying Lore up the stairs. She lets out a breath that brushes my throat.
“She’s acting like I don’t have an MD after my name,” she mutters.
I hold her a little closer and keep climbing.
“She’s worried,” I say quietly. “You are kind of important to us.”
Lore doesn’t answer. Her head rests against my shoulder, her breath warm on my collarbone.
I pause outside the bedroom door. I haven’t been in here in a year, and when I came up yesterday to look for her, I was too busy panicking to notice anything. Now, standing here with her in my arms, the weight of it hits me.
“You can put me down,” she says when I linger too long.
I shake my head and nudge the door open with my foot, stepping into what used to be our room. At first glance nothing looks different. The bed is there. The side tables. The mirror in the corner with the chair draped in clothes.
