Page 80 of Chasing Paradise

Why was he screaming over a bite?

“Were you bit? Stung?” I asked, putting my hand on his swollen, red skin.

It was a barely-there touch.

But Wick responded like I’d stabbed him. Another scream escaped him and when I looked over, tears were pouring down his face.

“Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do. Was it a snake? Should I be, like, sucking out the venom?”

“Bull…et.”

“Bullet? No, no this wasn’t a bullet, Wick.”

“Ant,” Wick hissed out between clenched teeth.

“Bullet ant?” I asked, getting a fierce nod from him.

My mind raced back through the conversation we’d had when I’d freaked out about a bunch of freaky red ants that looked like they did steroids and lifted dumbbells for fun.

He said those were harmless.

But that I had to watch out for the big, black bullet ants. Which were as high on the venom bite pain scale as you could get.

When I had no frame of reference for other insect bites or stings, he’d started to compare it to other, more tangible things.

Touching a live electrical wire.

Third-degree burns.

A broken bone being twisted.

Surgery without anesthesia.

And the pain could last twelve to twenty-four hours.

“Oh, oh, God,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do,” I said. My lower lip wobbled as tears flooded my eyes.

His leg was trembling in agony, and that shaking was spreading through his whole body.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

He was the one who knew more about this kind of thing. And he couldn’t tell me what to do. He could barely breathe.

My gaze went down to the wound again. Leaning closer, I noticed it wasn’t just a hole; something was sticking out of it.

Honestly, I didn’t think.

It was like that time I’d broken my little toe and had just… reached down and pulled it back straight again.

I reached down and yanked the stinger out of the wound.

Wick’s whole body jolted and flew backward, leaving him rolling and writhing on the ground, grunting and huffing out his breath.

“I’m sorry. Shit. Okay. I’m sorry,” I said, going to him and reaching down to wipe some of the sweat off of his forehead. “I don’t know what to do,” I said, sniffling hard.

“Ahhh!” Wick roared, back arching, his whole body contorting like in the throes of violent death.

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