“Well, what do you think?”It’s after five, and Teddy has been painting since we returned from thestore. Sophie’s Greenest Green now covers one entire wall, and it looks amazing, exactly what I’ve been envisioning all along.
“Iloveit!”
“Good; that’s what I want to hear.” Teddy gives me a smile so tender it takes my breath away, and we lock eyes for a heartbeat. Then my phone rings in my pocket; thankful for the intrusion, I hastily withdraw it.
“My father is calling.” Somewhat confused, I swipe to answer. Dad rarely calls me, preferring to text or merely show up on my doorstep.
“Honey… it’s your mom,” Dad’s voice sounds strained. “We’re at the hospital; the doctors think she’s had a heart attack.”
“What?” I gasp. “How is she? Will she be alright?” This can’t be happening; my mother is a strong, healthy faerie who hardly ever gets sick. Quite the opposite—she’s the one who takes care of the rest of us.
"Phoebe's still being evaluated… I don’t know.” My dad huffs out a long, shaky breath. “I’ve called your grandmother, who’s on her way. Can you tell Jake and Cassia for me?”
“Of course, and then I’ll be right over too.” After I tell Dad I love him and hang up, I promptly burst into tears. I sense Teddy hovering, but given how I pushed him away with a stern lecture the last time he tried comforting me, he’s giving me some space.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s my mom.” Sobbing, I struggle to say, “She’s had a heart attack.” The last words end on a wail as I fling myself into Teddy’s chest.
Without hesitation, hewraps his powerful arms around me and draws me close. “I’m so sorry, Sophie.” He holds me as I weep all over his white overalls. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
Nestled against Teddy’s broad chest, I feel so safe and protected that I don’t want to leave his embrace. Odd. These feelings aren’t something I normally crave, especially not from a man as persnickety and perfect as Teddy, who can paint an entire wall without getting himself covered in spatter. We’re as different as any two people I’ve ever known, and yet there’s something about his sweetness and solidness that draws me to him… until he lectures me about fire safety, or the proper way to dispose of old paint cans, or the nutritional balance of Zosia’s diet.
I had to chuckle when Teddy, the werewolf who claims he doesn’t like pets, purchased a vitamin supplement for Zosia’s fur. He insists I add it to her food every day; even when he’s aggravating, he’s adorably well-meaning.
With a small sigh, I step out of Teddy’s arms, already missing their warmth. “I… I need to tell Jake and Cassia… and then meet my dad at the hospital.”
“Let’s make those calls right now, and then we’ll go to the hospital together. Where’s your phone?”
“Here...” I unlock my phone, go to my favorites tab, and hand it to him. “Cassia first, and then Jake.”
Teddy puts the phone on speaker and places an arm around my shoulders as I tell Cassia, who begins to cry, which reopens my floodgates. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she chokes out between sobs.
Jake is more stoic; no tears for him, but his voicedrops so low I barely hear him rasp, “She’ll be fine, Sophie. Shehasto be.” Then he coughs and grumbles, “I’ll be there as soon as I can find someone to cover my shift.”
I’ve been wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, but now Teddy produces another of his clean, white hankies, which I gratefully accept. I mop myself up as best I can in the bathroom.
When I emerge, Teddy holds out my phone, which I drop into my purse. He casts me an anxious look, his brow deeply furrowed. “I’ll drive.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, grateful for his strong, calming presence.
Teddy drops me off before searching for a parking spot in the hospital’s crowded lot. I race through the special entrance reserved for supernatural visitors, which is tucked in the back of the hospital, hidden by a wooden fence and climbing ivy to prevent unsuspecting humans from wandering inside. This waiting room is one of the few places in Riddle Hill where supers don’t have to hide our wings, fangs, fins, and fur from the public; given the amount of stress involved in waiting for news of a loved one's condition, it makes sense we can be ourselves here.
As soon as I enter, I release my wings, which I’ve been keeping tightly closed on the drive over here. As they unfurl through the slits in the back of my pink tee, I spot my dad and race over to him.
Dad grips my shoulders as my wing feathers brush against him. “It turns out the doctor’s initial assessment was wrong.” When he sees my lower lip begin to wobble,he hastily adds, “It’s good news! Phoebe didn’t have a heart attack after all—she has a severe case of faerie flu!”
“Faerie flu? But I thought Mom couldn’t catch it!” I’m simultaneously confused and relieved; faerie flu is a nasty illness and highly contagious if you’ve never been exposed to it before, but it’s not fatal. When I was fourteen our entire family came down with it—except for my mother. Even Dad and Jake were bedridden. (Werewolves can catch it too.) Mom had to close the Sit for a Spell Café for a week so she could nurse us back to health. After that incident, we all assumed she’d developed immunity.
“Apparently not,” says my grandmother. “Poor Phoebe; they’re putting her in isolation right now. The doctor says she needs to stay here for five days, and then she’ll need to rest at home for another week.” Granny Catbeam pats my wing feathers, like she’s trying to apologize for binding my magic, but I’m not ready to forgive her yet.
Teddy arrives in the waiting room at the same time as Cassia, who sheds happy tears when Dad shares the news. Before any of us have time to inform Jake, he arrives, his face pale and drawn. Poor Jake; everyone sees him as the big, strong alpha, but I remember the frightened, grieving, twelve-year-old boy who’d just lost his mother and stepdad in a car accident. While Cassia sobbed at their funeral and teared up often at school afterward, Jake remained stolid and stone-faced, but at night I’d hear him crying quietly in his bedroom across the hall.
When Dad tells Jake, he shudders and throws hisarms around my father, who immediately wraps his huge, coppery wings around him, giving them both some privacy. The two men finally separate, both of them swiping away the moisture from their eyes.
“Are we closing the café, Uncle Nash?” asks Cassia.
My dad’s wings droop. “I don’t know what to do. It’s the busiest time of the year, so I hate to close even for a few days, but without Phoebe, I don’t have much of a choice.”
