Page 82 of Fallen Stars

I meet Mama’s eyes and nod. “It’s fine.”

The clock on the wall ticks on and on as Dr. Sharma asks several questions about my injuries. When she reaches what I think is the end, I open my mouth to ask when I can go home. But I’m cut off as she starts a new round of questions focusing on my memory. Thankfully, this part of the exam is brief.

Next, she waves a penlight in front of my eyes then adds notes to the tablet. After some nerve and muscle tests, she gives a subtle nod.

“Aside from your physical injuries, everything appears to be normal. Your memory of the event is cloudy, which is to be expected. Our minds have a way of blocking out trauma while we heal.”

She taps the tablet screen several times.

“I’d like you to remain here for the night. In the morning, you can go home. I’ll write a script for the pain. Other than a couple cracked ribs, you have no major injuries.”

She presses the lock button on the tablet and hugs it to her chest.

“Time and rest, Oliver. I’ll detail things to avoid during recovery. If all goes accordingly, your ribs should be good as new in six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” I toss back incredulously.

A sympathetic smile dons her face as she shrugs. “Unless you’re a fast healer, six weeks is standard.”

No way in hell will I fucking lie around for six goddamn weeks. I need to find Levi.

I inhale deeply then groan as pain shoots through my midsection. “Thanks, Dr. Sharma.”

“You’re welcome.” She checks the bag attached to my IV line. “I’ll have the nurse bring in some pain med?—”

“No.” My stomach twists at the idea of losing more time. “Not yet. Maybe when I need to sleep.”

“Are you sure, dušo?”

I meet Mama’s concerned gaze and nod. “Yeah, Mama. I need to speak with the police and Levi’s boss. It’s best to do both with as clear a head as possible.”

“Levi’s boss?”

“I’ll explain.”

Dr. Sharma heads for the door. “I’ll give you privacy. Whenever you’re ready for the pain meds, press the call button.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor exits the room, but I wait a moment before speaking up. Not that I’m well informed.

“Levi was working on something big with his boss. He couldn’t share details due to confidentiality, but it was a significant project. Dark. Heavy. Stressful.” I swallow past the expansive knot in my throat. “If he’s… missing”—tears well in my eyes once more—“Tymber may know how to find him.”

Mama gently squeezes my fingers. “Okay, dušo.” She nods. “I’ll text Papa and ask him to call Tymber.”

One of the longest hours of my life passes before Travis Emerson enters my hospital room.

“Hey, Ollie. How’re you holding up?”

I wave a hand up and down my body. “Could be better.”

“True. We’re just glad you’re alive. Soon as Kirsten heard the news, she told Sky and Dee Dee. They’re ready to smother you with food and care.” He chuckles.

A cloud of unease fills the room as I don’t respond in kind. But before Travis speaks up again, Tymber walks into the room.

On a good day, Tymber is quite formidable. The trait comes in handy with his line of work. But today isn’t a good day, and Tymber looks as though he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Tymber.” Travis offers him a hand to shake, and Tymber takes it. “Why are you here?”

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