“Listen to me, Lorien. I want you to floor it. Put your body in the middle of the spot to do the least damage. The truck and house can be repaired. Protect your body. Ready?”
“No.” Why is all this happening to me?
“You can do this, Lorien,” Ayla says. “You’re strong and smart and this is the best option.”
“It’s the only option,” Cian echoes. “Go.”
I slam the gas pedal to the floor, gripping the wheel as my tires peel. I fishtail and close my eyes as metal rips and glass flies around me.
“What the fuck happened?” The familiar voice is far away, and yet, so loud.
“Don’t speak to her that way.” I don’t know that one, but it’s menacing and severe.
“I’ll speak to her anyway I?—”
“Stop. Both of you. Stop right now.” Whoever that woman is, she’s fierce.
“Oh my,” a woman’s voice closer to me says. “It’s like a hot men of Denver calendar model argument out there. Damn.”
I didn’t know they made those calendars. I could use one of those. I don’t get to look at men anymore and the one I want totouch says that’s forbidden. The sigh that leaves me must be audible.
“Are you okay?” the voice says from seemingly closer.
“I want a calendar man.” Or is it a man calendar? My brain isn’t firing.
“Me, too, honey, me too.”
The door flies open and the scent of earthy and woodsy and something familiar hits me. “Yum.”
“Can I get an update please?” the voice says.
“Who are you?” the woman asks, her voice sounding breathy.
“I’m her husband.”
He sounds sweet. But I need a nap. And to dream about a hot calendar man. Maybe one with a beard.
I wake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. Everything hurts or feels like it jostled into the wrong place at an odd angle. “Ow.”
“Are you okay?”
My eyes adjust, and I look from the window side to a chair between me and the door. Liam is there, hands on knees, dressed in leather.
“Aren’t you hot?”
His lips twitch. “They didn’t tell me you hit your head.”
I scrunch my eyes trying to figure out what in the world he’s referencing. “Huh?”
“You called me hot, did you not?”
“You have on a leather jacket. In July.”
“And there’s the woman I married.” He lifts his arms, showing me the insides of the jacket. “It’s vented. Armor sucks in this chair, but they keep this place cold enough to hang meat.”
“With a few exceptions, viral viability declines with cooler temperatures. The denaturation of the proteins means viruses struggle to replicate. It’s strategic in hospitals to help decrease transmission.”
He tilts his head as if he’s thinking and a bandage on his right ear catches my attention.
