I hummed and hawed, then agreed. “Only if Ronen gets to join.”
Oliver’s eyebrows flew toward his hairline. “Does that mean you forgive him?”
I sighed, dropping from the cloud of our fantasy back into our gruesome reality. “There’s nothing to forgive him for. Only my mom. And myself.”
“Very mature of you,” he said, impressed.
“Figured if we’re all going to die in a few days, I might as well speed up the reflection process.”
“Valid. Seeing as I know we’re going to kick ass and take names, I’m not going to take the higher road and instead continue blaming bothmyself and my sister for her turning into an evil bitch. Or witch. If we want to be accurate.”
“I’m not sure what the correct response is to that. Should I cry with you or laugh?”
He shrugged. “Both are acceptable. Sam hugged me.”
So I hugged him. Long and hard.
We didn’t laugh. We didn’t cry. We sat on my bed in his dream, sharing our misery beneath the too-cheery morning light and taking what the brutal world handed us on its fuck-you platter.
Chapter
Forty-Seven
Lucille
“Well, Luce, what’s next?”
I scanned my body, grimacing. “To change out of my patient gown.”
I scooted off the bed and entered my closet, switching to a loose long-sleeve shirt and a pair of leggings. Then strapped a dagger to my thigh. Once I came out, Oliver nodded.
“Sporty and hot.”
“We have traitors everywhere. I’m being cautious.”
“Couldn’t you just, I don’t know… shove an icicle through their eye or send an unsuspecting purple ball at them that’ll dissolve their faces?”
“I like to have options,” I said with a sassy shrug and smirk.
“Who knew giving a girl a squad and a butt-load of trauma would make her turnspicy?”He licked his finger and, in a very Oliverly fashion, pressed it to his ass with a hiss.
“Let’s go,” I groaned. “Before I die from your humor.”
We hobbled out of my room, paused in the sitting area while I grabbed my notes, then made it to the hall door right as someone knocked.
For a second, my stomach rolled at the thought of Ronen.
I opened the door.
“Hey! It’s my favorite healer,” Oliver chirped into Sam’s scowling face.
“I did not approve your discharge, Oliver.”
“Lucy needed me. But we’re on our way back now, my grumpy healer.” He booped Sam on his nose, and the scowl deepened.
Sam moved to Oliver’s other side, standing taller than me but shorter than him. We continued toward the stairwell, jumbled and quiet. Then Sam surprised both Oliver and me by picking him up in his arms.
Oliver gazed at him adoringly. “I think this is the start of my fantasy. But we’re going in the wrong direction.”
