Page 90 of Forty

“You’re awake.” I feel her forehead. She’s cool and clammy.

“I’m not dead.”

Pain spears my chest. “No, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Her eyes flick to Sunny. “Are you keeping my insides from falling out?”

Sunny laughs. “No, sugar. I’m just keeping pressure on the wound ‘til Larry can clean you up.”

“Who’s Larry?”

“That’d be me. Now, there’s going to be a little stick.” He releases the tourniquet. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“I hate needles. I can’t stand things sticking in my skin.”

“Hate to tell you this, but you have a bullet stuck in your thigh.” Larry finishes up with the IV and moves over to a locked cabinet. Weird, I’ve known the guy since I got back, but I never knew his given name.

Nevaeh’s eyeing him warily. She seems more alert. “Are you gonna take it out?”

“Sure am, but there’s bad news.”

“I might die?”

“Nope. I’m gonna have to stick you with another needle. Local anesthetic.”

“This sucks.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” She’s so slight under the blanket. People don’t notice ‘cause her hair’s so big, and she’s so loud and full of energy, always in motion, but she’s a small woman.

I shouldn’t have left her.

I got to the house on Barrow Road, and I knew instantly there was trouble. Harper’s car was in the drive, and the front door was unlocked. Wall was in the living room, on the phone, calling for back up.

The place was trashed. Nevaeh’s phone was cracked on the floor of a bedroom, and the pearl ring I’d given her when we were kids was lying in the carpet.

It’s in my pocket now.

She kept it.

It’s such a cheap little thing. It was one month’s salary when I bought it, but one month’s salary running black market smokes was peanuts.

I threw her away, and she kept this piece of crap, all this time.

“Hey.” She’s turned back to face me now, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Are you lying to me? Is it really bad?”

“No, I promise. It’s a flesh wound.”

“Then why does your face look like that?”

“Like how?”

She struggles for words, and finally, she sighs. “Like I broke you,” she says.

“Here. You’re making me nervous.” Larry rolls a stool by Neveah’s head. “Sit,” he orders. Then he wheels his own stool next to Neveah’s injured side, relieving Sunny.

I sit, and slide as close as I can, leaning over to rest my forehead on hers. She reaches up for my hands. I grab them and rest them at the top of the gurney.

“Scissors.” Larry holds out an open palm. Sunny hands them over.

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