Silas:
Hades did well. Persephone ended up loving him anyway, so I don’t see anything wrong with that.
Lauren:
Are you really telling me that? Maybe the Stone Age call was meant for you.
I can’t help but laugh, a soft huff of air through my nose.
Silas:
Maybe we both belong in the same place.
Silas
As I slowly regain consciousness, the sterile smell hits me first—sharp, chemical, unmistakably hospital.
I survived.
Through half-open eyes, I make out the room around me. There are murmurs and beeping machines. Lauren’s voice filters in from the distance, sounding different—nervous. I know that tone well, and this isn’t her usual composed self.
“I’m Doctor Mike Sanders,nice to?—”
I’m DoCtOr MIkE SaNdErS.
“Lauren, Lauren Green, I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant,” she responds.
I peek just a little and catch a glimpse of her shaking hands with the doctor. He looks more like a runway model than a physician, but who am I to judge? The guy's flirting mid-shift.
“Green?”DoCtOr MIkEsays, clearly trying to play it cool. “I met someone with that last name once.”
Seriously, Mike? Green is like the John of last names.
Lauren’s polite enough, though. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t look anything like you. You’re much prettier,” he says, laying it on thick.
I grunt under my breath—not because of the weak attempt at flirting, but because his technique is so bad it’s almost insulting.
What is this, the fifties?
“I’m going to vomit,” I groan, more to disrupt his cringe-worthy flirting than anything.
Both whirl around, but Lauren’s at my side in a second, quicker than the doctor could even react. She’s concerned and focused on me, while Mike? He’s still trying to recover from his terrible game. I can’t help but smile internally.
“Silas!” Lauren’s voice comes out too loud as she grabs my hand with both of hers, her warmth almost startling against my cold skin. The sound of her voice feels like it’s traveling straight to my aching brain.
“Ah ... no screaming,” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Sorry,” she whispers, leaning closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I just want to know my diagnosis so I can get out of here,” I reply, focusing on the doctor, who seems a little too interested in the way Lauren’s hands are still on mine. I almost smile at the awkwardness.
“Mr. Walker, welcome back,” the doctor says, straightening up.
“What happened to me?” I ask, my voice sounding more like a demand than a question.
“A pre-heart attack,” he explains, his tone suddenly all business. “Thanks to your assistant’s quick thinking with the aspirin, things could’ve been much worse.”
