“I’m sorry you got hurt,” I tell him, wishing I could reach over and touch him, but worried it’ll make him worse if I do.
“Thanks,” he says. “And I’m sorry my mother’s a maniac who’s essentially trying to kill you.”
“Right?” I say, looking sideways. “Didn’t expect that.” We both smile and I focus on the road, and speed us toward the hospital.
•••
My grandmother is waiting for us under the cover of the awning at the back of the hospital. It’s the outpatient center, usually locked at night. We park, and after we get out, Pop is quick to jump into the driver’s seat.
“I’m in the first spot,” he says, motioning to the parking lot. “We’re switching cars for now.”
“Good idea,” I tell him. He hands me his keys and then takes the Jeep around to the other side of the building.
My grandmother and I get Wes into the hospital, and my grandmother has a nurse waiting for us, a woman she’s known for a long time. Nurse Belmont is sweet—I sometimes see her when I need a quick appointment. The bonus of having a guardian who’s the hospital administrator.
We go into the triage room, and after a quick exam, she tells Wes that she thinks he’s separated his shoulder. She doesn’t even ask how it happened. The swelling has already begun, so she’s unable to see the extent of the damage. He’ll have to let it settle for a few days.
As Wes sits on the table with his shirt off, his hair wet, I realize that he’s barefoot. On top of that, his shoulder is lower on the right side, drooped down at a significant angle. It’s turning blue, a bruise spreading quickly.
“I’m going to wrap up the shoulder and give you a sling,” Nurse Belmont says. “You okay with shots?” She rolls her stool over to a drawer and takes out a syringe.
Wes’s teeth chatter, and I think he might be in shock. I walk over to him and lean my cheek against his temple, rubbing his back. His skin is freezing cold.
“I love shots,” he says, miserable, and Nurse Belmont laughs.
My grandmother paces the room nervously, and I’m glad she was able to help us. Wes wouldn’t have gotten far without some kind of assistance tonight. As it is, I still have a terrible pain in my head, a new one in my leg. We’re getting our asses kicked over here.
“Tatum,” my grandmother says gently. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah,” I say, and tell Wes I’ll be right back. He reaches for me first, wincing, and murmurs something about giving him a kiss. It’s so pathetic in the most adorable way, so of course, I lean in and do just that. I really hope Nurse Belmont gives him some good drugs for the pain.
My gram leads me to another room. My grandfather joins us, shaking the rain off his jacket. While my grandmother inspects my head wound, I tell her what happened with Dorothy. She doesn’t say anything at first but gets an ice pack and holds it to my head. My grandfather gets aspirin from where my grandmother points it out, and I take two with a sip of water.
“Concussion,” my grandmother says sternly, looking down at me. She’s still holding the ice on my head, and I smile at her.
“Mild,” I say.
“Yes, but still a concussion,” she says. “I’d make you stay here for monitoring, but clearly that’s not a good idea. I’m hoping you have a better one. Because right now, my idea would involve getting Dr. Warren and Dorothy Ambrose sent to prison.”
“We’ll get there,” Pop says, and turns to me. “Have you updated Realm?”
“I’m meeting him in about two hours,” I reply.
“Good,” my grandmother says. “First, you should call Nathan and see if he can bring Weston some shoes.”
“Right,” I reply. I take the ice pack from her hand, holding it myself, and call Nathan to update him.
He and Wes have about the same shoe size, so fifteen minutes later, he comes by and drops off a pair of sneakers with socks, and two jackets for us.
He’s obviously worried, but our plan remains intact. I need his help rooting out the other handlers. Foster probably already knows who to look at.
After Nathan’s gone, I go back into the room with Wes, finding him lying on the table, groggy. His arm is in a black sling. He smiles slowly when he sees me.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says easily. I blush, a little embarrassed. And Nurse Belmont smiles at me.
“I gave him something for the pain, as well as a steroid. He should keep the shoulder iced when he can, and come back in a few days. We have to refer him to see if he’ll need surgery.”
I tell her I understand, but Wes isn’t listening. He’s gazing at me, hopped up on whatever Nurse Belmont gave him. He smiles broadly, and I have to laugh.
