Page 30 of Lyric

“What?”

Lyric nodded. “We have some things to work out.”

“But he won that last race, right?”

“Yes. But for him, flying is about more than winning. And becoming a star athlete turned flying into a chore. We went to every race and did our best for years. And we were good. But it can become stressful. Painful. Even tedious.”

“But being the best—there must be no better feeling.”

He smiled. “It’s wonderful. But it’s not everything. It’s not real after you go home alone and look at all the medals on your wall. It sets a beautiful stage. It makes life easier for us in many ways. But Lyrican is feeling the toll. And I have to admit, so am I.” He shrugged, laughing as if embarrassed he’d said too much. “What does all this have to do with you? Well, it’s nice to have a guest who isn’t hounding us for something.”

“That makes no sense. My situation puts me in a position of needing help.”

“You’re not hounding me like agents and PR people and the press.”

I tried to put together everything he was saying. He had wanted a break. I had changed his focus. Was he saying hewanted that? That I was helping him somehow? I couldn’t quite believe that.

“But you’re giving. I’m taking. It’s probably the usual for you. People take from you all the time, right?’

He lowered his head. “Hmm. I don’t feel it the same as you make it sound. Rescuing you is like maybe I’m doing something important, really meaningful, for the first time in my life.”

My ears reverberated with his words. As if I needed to hear them a second and third time. “Meaningful?”

“Yes.”

“I think what you do is meaningful.”

“Winning races? Sure. And over the years I’ve stretched myself beyond boundaries I thought I could never cross. It challenged me. And Lyrican and I do love a challenge. We made racing our whole life. But there’s more.” His eyebrows moved up, then down. “I can’t imagine not trying to rescue someone in trouble. And you being here gives us more to focus on.” He got up, running his hand through his hair. “It’s a nice change. I’m sorry it’s such a dark time for you, but we’ll make it better. I want to help.”

I could only nod, speechless.

When he left me, I stared around the room. It was fancy but not overly decorated, with pictures on the walls of forests, and ornamental molding with a curlicue pattern around the ceiling.

I drank a bit of the orange juice, which tasted fresh squeezed and was blissfully refreshing to my weary body. Then I hunkered down in the bed, still wearing hospital scrubs, and fell asleep.

I woke with an urgent bladder.I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed and, without thinking, stood up. Pain shot upfrom my ankle doubling me over. I sat back down on the side of the bed quietly moaning.

I glanced around for my crutches. They were leaning against the wall just out of arms’ reach.

I looked down. They'd wrapped my ankle in the hospital, but it didn't feel like it had any support at all.

Slowly, I got up on one foot. I leaned down to support myself on the bedstand and gave a little hop. Just that much movement jolted my ankle as I held it uselessly in front of me. I winced, then gritted my teeth waiting for the pain to recede. I guessed the shot they've given me had worn off.

I heard the door quietly open. As I looked up, Lyric poked his head in.

“Ohh, you’re up.”

“Barely.”

Immediately, he swung open the door and hurried over to my crutches, grabbing them and handing them to me.

“Sorry, I should have put them closer to you. Ankle hurting?”

“I can't put any weight on it at all. I found that out the hard way.” I positioned the crutches beneath my underarms.

“I'm so sorry.” He held up a little paper bag. “Your prescription came if that helps at all.” He set it on the table.

“Thanks. I'll take one, but I really gotta pee.”

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