“Yeah.”
She didn’t comment on it.Just closed her eyes again.
Mac glanced between us, sharp.“You can go.”
“I know.”
“You should.”
I hesitated only a second.“Call if anything changes.”
Star’s eyes opened again.“Sleeping is about the only thing I’m going to be doing.”
“I’ll be here no matter what,” I said.
I left before staying became something else.
Chapter Three
Star
Waking up didn’t hurt as much this time.
That was the first thing I noticed, and the second thing I noticed was that I didn’t trust it.
Pain had a way of lying to you.Sneaking up when you got cocky.I kept my eyes closed for a few extra seconds, breathing through it, waiting for the familiar hammering in my skull to announce itself.
It didn’t.
Instead, there was a dull pressure.Like someone had wrapped my head in cotton and forgotten to take it off.My stomach still felt like it had been used as a punching bag, but even that had shifted fromactively trying to kill metodeeply offended and holding a grudge.
Progress.
I cracked one eye open.
The hospital room was brighter than yesterday.Not aggressively bright, but morning-bright.Sunlight slipped through the blinds in pale stripes, landing across the foot of my bed and the scuffed linoleum floor.The steady beep of the monitor had become familiar enough that my brain filed it underbackground noiseinstead ofimmediate panic trigger.
I blinked a few times and tested my fingers again.
They worked.
Excellent.
I flexed my toes under the blanket.They worked too, though my legs felt heavy, like they were filled with wet sand.Still, the fact that my body was responding at all felt like a win.
I turned my head slowly.
There was a tray table beside my bed now.Closer than it had been yesterday.On it sat a plastic cup with a lid and a bendy straw, a packet of crackers, and what looked suspiciously like the most moist piece of chocolate cake.
Mom loved me.
Or at least pitied me by giving me cake.
The chair beside the bed was occupied.
My mom was slouched in it, chin tipped to her chest, arms crossed, mouth slightly open.Her hair was slicked back into a messy ponytail that said she’d been sleeping in that chair more than she’d been pretending not to.
I watched her for a moment.
