Page 55 of Scythe & Sparrow
“Yeah. I just—” A pair of nurses strike up a conversation at a station just beyond the open door, and I cut myself off. My smile is brittle around the edges. “I just … can’t wait to see the fur situation.”
Fionn laughs, gesturing toward the exam room bed. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” I leave my crutches off to the side and hop onto the table, my heart still climbing up my throat. Fionn goes into full doctor mode, talking about the process, something about a saw and scissors and skin that I should probably pay moreattention to. But in my head, I’m replaying the conversation with Matt Cranwell. The revelation. The unspoken threat. How much he already knows. What if there’s more? What if he’s just biding his time? What if he suspects Fionn was involved?
I have to get the fuck out of here. If he’s intent on revenge, I have to lead him away from Fionn. It’s me he’s after, and I need to give Matt a new trail to follow.
An electric whine fills the room and I startle.
“What the hell,” I hiss, pressing a hand to my chest.
“The … saw …?” Fionn says, his brow furrowing. “The saw I just told you about …? The one I just asked if you were ready for me to start up and you said yes …?”
“I did?”
He turns it off and lays a hand on my cast. I can’t feel the reassurance of his touch through the layers encasing my flesh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No. I’m not.
I wish the nurses would walk away so we could talk properly. I wish we had some fucking privacy. I wish I could tell him right now that I feel like I’ve been hit with a wave that’s swept me into the sea. Somewhere, deep down, I probably want to rage, or cry. But I’m too scared to do anything but lie. “Totally fine.”
A flicker of worry passes across his face. “I’m going to start the saw.”
I nod. The whine of the motor starts up again. Fionn presses the cutting edge to the cast in quick bursts in a straight line down the length of my leg. He stops on occasion to wipe the blade with a piece of square gauze soaked in alcohol to cool it down. He does one side of my leg and then the other. For all this time I’ve spentin the rigid embrace of my cast, it takes only a few moments to break.
“So …” Fionn says, keeping his eyes on the work of his hands as he uses a metal tool to separate the cut edges of the cast. “You should probably do some physio for a few weeks. You’ll have some muscle atrophy. Physio will help to ensure you build yourself back up safely.” He clears his throat and risks a quick glance at me. “I know someone good here. Her name is Judi. She’s got time to take you. If you want …”
It feels like he’s prying apart my bones and cracking open my heart.
“I really appreciate that,” I say, my voice unsteady. Fionn looks at me and I catch the disappointment in his eyes, the realization he’s about to be rejected. “I wish I could stay. Truly. But I have to get on the road as soon as possible.”
“It’s okay.” His smile is almost a perfect replica of the gentle one he often gives me in times of uncertainty.Almost.“I understand. That was always the agreement.”
I take his wrist and shake my head. The nurses keep chatting right outside our door. One of them stands in my line of sight and she glances my way. I can tell in that brief look that she’s assessing our conversation, even while having her own. Of course Dr. Kane would be the subject of interest around here. I bet half the hospital staff already know I’m staying at his house. I’m sure they’re just waiting for the smallest pieces of conversation to flutter their way.
Frustrated tears sting my nose. I refocus on Fionn. I’ll be fucking damned if I’ll let him think I’m leaving because of any other reason than the one I created. Not for one goddamn minute. “Youdon’tunderstand, actually.”
“It’s okay—”
“I don’t want to cause you any ‘trouble whatsoever.’”
Fionn pauses his efforts to split the cast and really look at me. He takes in the subtle shake of my head. I squeeze his wrist. He blinks, clarity sinking in, his eyes widening only slightly before he clears his throat. “Oh… I see. It’s no trouble, but I do understand.” He lays a hand over mine. “We can chat about it later. I can get you some recommendations for exercises on the road.”
I nod. My smile is weak, but it’s there, and so is his. He took a risk. When it comes to me, he’s taken many, in his own quiet way. Maybe it’s my turn. “But maybe you can check in once in a while? Make sure I’m doing them right …?”
Fionn’s smile brightens.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”
HURDLES
Fionn
ONE MONTH LATER
The Uber pulls away, leaving me at the entrance of the fairgrounds. An unlit Silveria Circus sign hangs overhead. I make my way past rides and game booths and concession stands in various stages of construction. None of the workers look up, even though it’s closed for the day. Maybe some of them knew I was coming, or maybe they just don’t care. There’s a buzz that seems to linger in the autumn air, a charge of excitement. The relief of being at home, the first off-season show about to begin in just a few days. Magic and money to make. And as I near the small tarot reader tent and duck my head inside, scanning the table with its red cloth and the velvet drapes lining the walls, I wonder if the excitement is not so much in the air. Maybe it’s in me.
Of course it is, you bloody eejit. You’re about to fuck Rose. It’s a biological response, nothing more. Certainly nothing to be worried about.
I shake my head as though it might clear my thoughts, then leave the tarot booth. I head to the left of the big top, through the fairgrounds and the rides that are not yet ready for visitors, pastthe fun house and the Tilt-A-Whirl and the swing carousel. My steps quicken the closer I get to the area where the trailers and RVs are parked at the far end of the grounds. I pull my phone from my pocket and check it for the tenth time since landing at Midland airport just outside Odessa, opening my last message to Rose.
