Page 105 of Dead Set on You
—Your favorite taffy
My first thought is to go to the hospital. The second is to trust him to handle it. I can’t do anything anyway, and I’d rather not induce another fainting spell by seeing my comatose body.
Rafael has this, I remind myself. Some of the anxious edge dulls. But the panic—and pain—is there. Sharp and impossible to ignore.
And while he’s on shaman duty, trying to figure out how to fix me, I need to think of a way to tell him about my feelings. I’m not sure which seems like the more impossible of the two.
Figuring yourself out,the Evies say.
An hour into pacing the length of Rafael’s apartment, I still don’t have a plan. Not for telling him about my feelings, not for what happens if I ever get back. But I do know I need to find Rafael.
To tell him about the pain—to tell him that we need to speed things up. Whatever it takes. I’ll try all the crazy ideas Lupe has. I’ll be open to whatever plan.
Even if it takes another Vela.
Determined and more than a bit nauseous, I head for the hospital.
It takes entirely too long to get there. My head pulses with every step.
By the time I enter Northwestern Memorial, the dull throbbing has intensified. The fluorescent lights feel like searchlights.The white walls blur. Even the floor seems to wobble beneath me. I have the strongest urge to lie down on the concrete until the nausea passes.
I push forward, up the stairwell. Past patients. Past nurses. Past doors.
With each step, I feel worse. What if it’s not just my body rebelling? What if this isit? The end? Goodbye?
Panic knifes at my resolve.
No. Not yet.
Not when there are ninety-two reasons on my bucket list. Not when I haven’t lived or loved. Not when I haven’t told Rafael the truth.
Please don’t take me yet.I send the prayer out as the lights glare brighter and the floor lurches with each step. I really need Rafael … and a place to lie down.
I force my legs to move.
And then he’s there—pacing outside my room, talking animatedly on his phone. Relief pushes past the other symptoms, and I almost throw myself at him, wishing so desperately he could sweep me into his arms and just hold me.
I don’t. I pull on a mask of composure and go to him.
He sees me. Surprise flits across his face, followed by concern. “Evie,” he says, as breathless as I feel. He ends the call without a glance at his phone.
“Hi.” I smile even though I feel like I’m in the late stages of food poisoning.
Rafael’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, not even close. Some of my calm facade cracks.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.” His phone buzzes in his hand, but he ignores it. “I—you didn’t have to come,” he says, his voice edged with something I can’t name. Something sharp and strange and not at all like anything from last night.
A nasty feeling twists my stomach. “I know, but I wanted to help.” I glance behind him at the door. “Is Lupe in there? The shaman?”
Rafael’s jaw ticks. “No. She didn’t come.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. That’s okay, right?” I ask, even though his signals tell me otherwise.
He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s okay.” His words sound wrong, like they’ve been dragged from somewhere he didn’t want to go.
“What—what’s wrong?” I move instinctively closer, feeling cold and hot. Hospital staff move past us. Rafael is oblivious to them, to The Conditions™.
