Her eyes cut to mine. “No, what?”
“No, youdon’t get to be the one checking on me.” I don’t raise my voice—I don’t have to. The edge does the work.
“I’m your nurse, Moe. There are exactly three medics in this entire compound cleared for your case and I’m the only one not currently pulling someone’s spleen out of their ribcage, so you’re stuck with me.”
I finally turn my head, slow and sharp. “Fine. Then do your job. Patch me up and leave.”
Her lips twitch at the corners, not in amusement—more like restraint. “I figured you’d be mad. I just didn’t think you’d still be this mad.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I’m furious.”
She sighs. “It was over a year ago—”
My voice drops, low and clipped. “I’ve never told anyone about him, you know.”
She goes still, and the tension sharpens between us.
Bingo.
“I’ve kept my mouth shut for years about that guy you stitched up back in ‘22. The one you keep tabs on like some obsession. The one who has no idea you exist.” I continue, my voice as cold as ice.
“Moe—”
“No, you don’t get to show up and take on the hero persona every time I have a moment. You’ve got a secret shrine to a stranger who thanked you once and then vanished into smoke.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. I just need her hot headed ass to snap back. I need to feel the anger so the pain can become a little more bearable.
“You tracked his movements. You learned his aliases. You had his blood type memorized before the team even knew your middle name.”
Her eyes flash. “You don’t get to use that—”
“Don’t I?”
The silence stretches, too loud. My heart monitor jumps and I force myself to breathe through it.
Finally, Laura speaks, her voice steel-threaded. “You think I don’t hate myself for betraying you? You think I don’t carry that? But I will not apologize for saving your life, Moe. I won’t.”
I shut my eyes as she steps forward, adjusting the IV bag with clinical precision. She didn’t save my life; she turned me into a boy trapped in a bubble for her own personal gain. I refuse to believe otherwise at the moment. If it weren't for her, Caspian wouldn’t have become so strict with the rules; he wouldn’t be so paranoid about my every move.
“Your body took a lot of trauma,” she says after a long moment, thankfully changing the fucking subject. “Shrapnel in your thigh, fractured scapula, torn muscle in your shoulder. You were on the edge of multi-organ failure before we stabilized you. So... field work? Not for a while.”
My jaw tenses. “I’ll heal.”
“You’ll scar,” she says bluntly. “And pushing it before you’re ready could cost you more than your pride. Could cost your ability to go back at all.”
I turn my head, facing away. “So, I’m grounded.”
“For now.” She hesitates at the edge of the bed.
“Raylen held onto you the entire chopper ride, you know. Even when she passed out. Even when we had to cut your shirt open and start emergency pressure... she wouldn’t let go of your hand.”
The door bursts open without warning, and both of us whip our heads around.
“If you two are done trauma bonding,” Sam announces, grinning like he owns the damn place, “we brought actual food instead of hospital mush.”
Caspian follows closely behind him, holding two takeout bags in one hand and an energy drink in the other. He looks tired and disheveled, as though he hasn’t shaved in two days, yet he somehow manages to light up the entire room. It’s sad that I peek around, expecting Jon to be following as well, but he left yesterday. That’s okay, though; I’ll get used to it. Besides, I have all the answers I need now. I’ll just have to let our relationship develop naturally.
“You better bounce back quick,” Caspian says, dropping the bags on the tray table, “because if you’re not on your feet in time for my wedding, I swear I’ll wheel your arse down the aisle and make you slow dance with Sam.”