Page 75 of Ladybirds

Sara licks her lips, eyeing the wound with growing trepidation. “I—shouldn’t you have X-rays? Or something? What if the BBs are still in there?”

He laughs. “Oh, they’re most definitely there. It’ll be a terribly fun time getting through TSA in the future.”

She stills. “You want to leave them?”

Shifting his weight on the couch, he grimaces. “As opposed to you digging around my chest with a pair of tweezers? Most certainly.” He looks at her, sees the horror painted across her face, and sighs. “It will be fine.”

Everything is so, so far away from ‘fine’, she wants to scream. “There’s a hospital right down the street.”

“And they will ask for identification I don’t have.” He takes her hand, thumb stroking her knuckles. “I don’t exist here, Sara. There will be questions that I’m unprepared to answer.”

“But the BBs...”

“There’s no need to remove them.” He gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “As I’ve said, it will be fine.”

She stares at him, eyes tracing the shape of his smile. “You’re hiding something,” she murmurs, frowning.

His fingers twitch against her skin, a grimace painting his face. “It’s not worth you fretting over.”

“Tell me.”

Seth hesitates, eyes flitting over her determined expression before releasing a resigned sigh. “I’m not worried about the shot. I’m worried about the infection that could follow.” He nods toward the rag in her hand. “This... may not be enough.”

“You need medication,” Sara breathes, bile rising in her throat.

“Possibly.”

“They would still treat you. They have to, right? They do that, that Hippomatic Oath thing.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Hippocratic, Princess.”

“Whatever! Point is, we’re going. Let’s go.”

“No.”

“But—”

“Do you have any idea, precisely how broken the American healthcare system is?”

“That is not the point.”

“I have nothing, Sara. No identification, no money.” He gestures to the wound on his chest, eyes dark. “This isn’t an emergency. My life is far from endangered. There’s a fair chance it will heal well enough on its own, no antibiotics needed.”

“But what if it doesn’t!?” she snaps, frustration rising. “You can’t just leave something like this up to chance! You can’t break the curse only to—” The word sticks in her throat.

Die.

Leave.

She swallows, chest tight and eyes burning. “You just can’t.”

Seth reaches for her, fingertips brushing her own in a coaxing whisper. “Sara.” Tenderness softens the edges, but her name leaves his lips like an apology. “I swear to you, the moment it becomes a danger I will go, but not a moment before then.” His fingers curl around her own, squeezing gently. “Believe me, I have no wish to be anywhere you aren’t.”

“I really think it should be looked at.” She bites her lip, eyes trailing over the gash spanning over his ribs. There is no doubt in her mind that it would at least benefit from some stitches.

He stares at her, lips thin. “Fine. What about your friend, then?”

“Miles?”

---