Truthfully, they could’ve stayed their asses in the cabin. Me and Bryce could’ve handled that task, like we always had.
Efficient… no drama… no whining… just getting shit done.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone was inside. Bryce had already gotten a flame going, and the fireplace was crackling in the living room, radiating a slow-building warmth. He had disappeared into the back, probably fixing something or making sure thepipes didn’t freeze—doing the kind of shit men who actuallydothings handle without announcement.
Adrian, on the other hand, was sprawled across the couch, face contorted in pain and sweat glistening on his forehead as if he’d trekked five miles uphill... while dragging a casket... with a bullet embedded in his thigh. His bare leg was propped on a stack of mismatched pillows; all bunched together like a sad attempt at comfort.
Isis was right back at his side, hovered over him with an intense, almost frenzied focus, squinting as if she were diagnosing a rare disease. Her hat was now completely off, and the absence of her coat made it look like she was clocked in at the ER... as an unqualified nurse during a chaotic disaster drill.
I watched from the recliner with my arms crossed and lip curled in disdain.
As much as I hated to admit it, Adrian and Isis were touchy…realtouchy.
Probably unknowingly… probably innocent… probably.
But in that moment, I could've definitely seen the two of them ending up together. He was goofy and dramatic, with a weird need to be babied, while she was loud, attention-starved, and one crisis away from acting like she was the main character in a reality show. They just made sense together in a “Content Creator couple I’d block” kind of way.
“Don’t worry, I got you!” Isis gasped, her voice laced with a breathless urgency as she yanked at her little Coach mini backpack, treating it like a trauma kit.
She dug through it like she was about to pull out an IV drip.
“I saw this on an episode ofDr. Miami Does the Mountains.”
Ma’am, what?
I was half-expecting her to pull out some glitter lip gloss, maybe a travel-size Victoria’s Secret spray, some edge control, ora sparkly Hello Kitty Band-Aid to indicate she had a sprinkle of common sense.
But no.
That girl pulled out an unopened bottle of rosewater facial mist, a jade roller, and a packet of vitamin C gummies, like she was performing minor surgery inSephora.
“Lord,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head slowly, “this girldone pulled out everything but a damn degree.”
“Okay, hold still,” she instructed Adrian, spraying the rosewater over his forehead and chest as if performing anointing magic.
“Why are you spraying hisface?” I asked, genuinely baffled. “The man hit hisknee.”
“Relax, Chesteria,” Isis responded calmly, patting his cheeks with the roller like she was prepping him for Coachella. “Swelling is holistic. If you treat the aura, the body follows. Duh.”
Adrian groaned, caught between pain and confusion. “I just need a band-aid… or something.”
Isis gasped, her eyes wide in horror. “No! That traps the trauma under the skin, silly! And if your blood freezes in there, we might have to perform a hot oil extraction.” She faced me. “Do you have some coconut oil? Preferably organic, first-press?”
“Youcan’tbe serious right now?”
“Oh, but I am,” she quipped, unzipping her backpack once more, determination lining her features. “I have another solution. You might wanna step back for this. I’m about to call on my ancestral healing energy.”
I froze in place, incredulity flooding my system. “Say what?”
Ignoring me, Isis reached back inside her bag. This time she pulled out a tiny amethyst crystal, a half-burnt bundle of sage, a laminated chakra chart folded in quarters…and a pink Bic lighterwith “Namaste, Bitch” printed on the side in glittery font.
I should’ve walked away then, but instead, I found myself rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away as Isis clicked the lighter, lit the damn sage,and began waving it in wide, deliberate circles like she was attempting to summon a spirit from the ether.
With a theatrical flair, Isis took a deep breath and blew over Adrian’s leg. The smoke swirled around like a soft, ghostly veil.
Then, she began to chant, deepening her voice for effect, "Om-bye-ahh-nae. Spirit of the swollen knee, release the tension, restore the glee. Pain be gone… like my ex, Raymond. A-SHE!"
The last word echoed off the walls like she was sealing a bargain with the universe.
