Page 102 of Wrath

Ezra’s hand is at my back again. “Where we going, brother?”

Oh yeah. “Second floor.”

In the elevator, he steps close to me and wraps an arm around me, pulling me up against him so my face could touch his chest if I wanted. His hand rubs a big, firm circle on my back as his lips brush over the top of my head. “Over soon,” he tells me. “When we go, I want a milkshake.”

“Me too.”

We sit in the waiting room together. He shows me some memes on his phone. When they call me back, he asks if he should go, too.

“You don’t have to.”

“You want me to stay out here?” His brows draw together, and I can’t bring myself to ask him to go back with me.

“For now, I guess so.”

I go back, and all the old stuff. Weight check, blood pressure, blah blah. They do the EEG, and I don’t really like the nurse. She seems too chipper. The thing comes back normal.

“We’ll just do an MRI,” she says, like it’s no bfd. “We don’t have you down for general anesthesia, just IV sedation. Is there someone in the waiting room you’d like us to get?”

“My stepbrother.” My voice wavers a little on it. Maybe it’s not a good idea to bring him into this.

I think of his hand on my back when we moved through the revolving door and shut my eyes as a nurse swabs the top of my hand for an IV.

“Just a quick stick,” she says.

I grit my teeth, but she’s right. It is quick. Nearly painless.

“This will run for ten or twelve minutes,” she says, putting her hand on the bag. “Then we’ll unhook you and send you back to MRI, and afterward, someone will need to meet you in the waiting room.”

Fourteen

Ezra

“Ezra Masters?”

I lift my head, startling slightly.

“If you’ll come with me…”

My heart starts hammering as I follow the nurse down a hall with doors on each side. “Your brother is getting a sedative before his MRI. When there’s a history of anxiety, we like to try to offer our patients access to a parent. Since your mom couldn’t be here today, you’ll be allowed back.”

I can barely swallow as she stops in front of a wide, metal door. “He’s not going fully to sleep. Still, when you see him in the post-procedure area, he may be tired or sleeping. His mother—your mother, or is it stepmother?—has arranged for the doctor to call her during the post-MRI visit, but you may want to be back there with him.”

I manage to nod. She smiles, thin-lipped, and pushes the door open.

Mills is lying on his back in a hospital bed. His eyes are shutand there’s an IV running into a vein at the top of his hand. He has a gown on. There are sheets over his legs, up to his chest.

My stomach pitches. I can’t get my legs to move me toward him.

“Your stepbrother is here,” the nurse tells him.

DG’s eyelids lift open. His mouth curves a little as he tries to keep his eyes open to greet me. “Hey.” His voice sounds slow. His eyes drop back shut.

“This stuff…always…hits me” —his eyes peel back open— “so hard.”

I stand beside him, looking down and feeling vaguely panicked.

“It’s okay.” I force myself to lay my hand on his arm. “Feeling okay?” I ask dumbly.

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