Page 33 of War

A bright light sears my vision.Cringing, I swat at the hand pushing my eyelids open.“There you are,” a woman’s soft, warm voice declares.I can sense the smile on her face from her tone.Once the spots clear from my eyes, I realize I’m lying on a hospital bed.Callan is by my side, an intense frown line creasing his brow.

“Did I faint?”Embarrassment heats my cheeks.

“You lost consciousness, yes.Can you tell me if you’ve eaten much today?”the nurse with the gentle voice asks.She’s an older woman, her silver hair pulled back into a bun.Laugh-lines crinkle her mouth and she has gray eyes.

“I can’t remember when I ate last,” I mutter, pushing the stark white sheet from my legs.

“This is my fault.I’ve pushed you too much,” Callan rumbles, clenching the metal bar on the side of my bed.

“Her blood sugar probably just dipped.We can run some tests to be sure, but it’s likely nothing to worry about,” the nurse says, trying to comfort him.

“I don’t want tests.I’ll just get a sandwich from the vending machine,” I say, pulling the heart monitor from my finger.

“I wouldn’t recommend the vending machine, but we do have a cafeteria on the third floor.”

“Rogue, let her do the tests,” Callan begs, his jaw clenched.It’s a waste of time.I just need some food.

“No.”Dread gnaws at me.“I need to know the rest of your dad’s version of events.”

“I can ask him,” Callan insists, struggling to pull the sheet back over me.

“No.I need to hear it directly,” I snap, smacking away his hands.

“Rogue.”He sighs in defeat.

“Callan, please.”I attempt to get down from the bed, but slump back as dizziness swarms through me.

Shit.

“You’re exhausted.”Leaning over, he shifts my body until I’m back in the middle of the bed.

“Let’s get you some fluids and food,” the nurse says, slipping the heart monitor back onto my finger.She writes something down on her chart.“I’ll be back soon,” she informs me before leaving the room.

“It looks like I’m resting for a couple minutes.”I exhale, laying my head against the pillow.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Callan says, his face ashen.I want to reach up and touch him, but my limbs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each.

“That’s becoming my thing.”I snort, breathing in a deep breath.I close my eyes, silence settling over the room.Jericho’s words run marathons in my mind.Tyler was meeting him.Maybe he was setting Jericho up.But to what end?

“Are you going to kill Tyler?”I find myself asking.My skin prickles.The hairs on the back of my neck stand.I don’t know how I feel about Tyler going to ground.

“We’re not talking about that right now.”Callan strokes a hand across my forehead.

“I have to.”

“Rogue, you’ve been through so fucking much lately and wouldn’t see the doctor after what happened with Larkin.”

My eyes spring open.I scan the room, fearful someone will hear him.We’re still alone in a private room, four blue walls and just us two.

“You’re worrying over nothing.I’m just tired and hungry.It’s been a long day.”

“I shouldn’t have made you come here.”He tortures himself, scrubbing his hands down his face before folding his arms.

“Jericho has the answers, Callan.You can’t make me do anything; I chose to come.He knows what happened to her.”I attempt to pull the sheet away again, but he stops me, holding it in place.

“He’s not going anywhere.The answers will still be there once you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Harley doesn’t even own a gun.”I can’t picture it.Harley had a quick temper, but she was harmless.“She would mouth off to a grown man, but to shoot him…”

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