Page 163 of Wicked Dreams

I manage a smile. “Thank you.”

“Couch? Soup?”

I nod and collapse on the couch, grabbing the remote. A day to do nothing but recover? I’m okay with that.

It’s early in the morning. There’s the rest of the day ahead of me.

Once Lenora is done hovering—she brings me water and a creamy wild rice soup—I dig into my backpack. I can’t just sit here and do nothing, as peaceful as that sounds.

I find my phone at the bottom of my bag. Reaching in, I scroll through missed calls and texts from Caleb and Riley. My attention settles on one text from my mystery texter. The timestamp shows that they sent it yesterday afternoon. My hands tremble.

I click on the text before I wimp out.

Unknown

This is the only time I help you.

[image attached]

It’s a photo of Ian towing me across the field. Did Unknown send it to someone to help me? Caleb?

I shudder. I didn’t even think to ask how he found me.

There are too many people pulling strings in my life. It makes me angrier than I could expect.

Lenora’s doctor friend comes over, a portable ultrasound machine in hand, to inspect my stomach. Both women gasp when I raise my shirt. There’s a lot of gentle probing—ow—and she finally rocks back on her heels. She fires up the ultrasound machine and squirts gel on my stomach, like they do for pregnant women.

I cringe at the idea of being pregnant.

“The ultrasound is clear,” she finally says. “It seems like deep bruising. Have you been nauseated? Vomited at all?”

I shake my head.

“If you do, or if the pain travels into your back, call me. If there’s blood in your urine—call me.” She raises her eyebrows and holds out a card with her number written on it. “Do you understand?”

I jerk my head up and down. “Pain in my back, blood in my urine, call you. Got it.”

“Ice on and off. Stay away from strenuous activity.” She cleans the gel from my stomach and packs up her machine.

“Okay.” I force a smile. “Thank you for checking on me.”

They both rise, and I lower my shirt. I cover myself with the blanket again and close my eyes. Still, I hear Lenora’s friend say, “I’d keep her activity down for at least a week. I’ll write a note for you to send into the school.”

I push myself upright. “Wait,” I blurt out. “The dance?—”

“Halloween is still ten days away,” Lenora says gently. “I’m sure you’ll be recovered enough by then.” She raises her eyebrow at her friend.

The doctor smiles. “I’ll come back on Sunday and check on you.”

For the rest of the day, I drift between consciousness and sleep and try to forget Ian Fletcher.

When I wake up, it’s completely dark. The television rolls through end credits of a movie I completely missed, and I’m impossibly groggy. I feel around for my phone, and my hand lands on… skin.

I snap my hand back. Caleb is reclined in the chair adjacent to the couch, his eyes closed.

My heart does this awful thing: it softens.

I must’ve touched his hand, dangling off the chair’s arm.

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