Page 97 of The Piece You Stole

“How will we know she’s out of the woods?” Aden had asked, clutching onto the white box of antibiotic ointment as if it were precious gold.

“Give it four days,” the doctor had said. “If her situation doesn’t worsen, the redness fades, and the swelling goes down, she should be on the path to recovery. But I’m still recommending—”

“She can’t stay,” I’d interrupted. “You saw what someone did to her. And I’m telling you, that same someone will come here looking for her.”

The doctor had still wanted to argue.

“A doctor was murdered in a hospital parking lot,” Aden had said quietly, looking the doctor right in the eye. “We think he’d been trying to protect her.”

After that, the doctor had given Aden a long look and stopped pushing us to leave Saige for at least another day. So, we’d scooped her up and gotten her the fuck away from such a public place.

Aden had cleaned out Monica’s old room for her while I’d held her, waiting for him to strip and make the bed. Halfway through, Leandro had set off every damn alarm climbing in the backyard and had come closer than he will ever know to having his face clawed off.

But he’d been useful, if only to keep an eye on the downstairs while Aden and I had given Saige a sponge bath and settled her in the bed, watching her closely for any sign the sepsis would return to kill her right in front of us.

If someone had told me ten years ago, I was capable of gentle, I’d have glassed them in the face for even suggesting it. We took our time, neither of us saying a word as we cleaned the muck and the blood off Saige’s body. And when she was clean and dry, Aden disappeared down the hall before returning with a folded white shirt.

“That’s mine,” I’d told him, my eyes on the fabric bunched in his hand.

“Yes,” he said. It’s all he said before asking me to sit Saige up so he could help her into the shirt.

So I did.

She hadn’t stirred once.

She’s not in pain. Not crying out. Nothing like that. But if she doesn’t wake soon, we’ll have to take her to the hospital. Just to make sure she’s okay.

And her room…we have to do something about her room.

Mona had claimed it as hers, but then, she’d decided the room Aden had painted a pale lilac because it had been her favorite color was too small, and she’d much rather sleep with Dariel.

That had been the start of things going wrong between us.

I’m listening in on Dariel and Aden’s conversation a few doors down, still not asleep but close to it, when Leandro’s whistle has me blinking open eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed.

Footsteps move toward me, and I sit up with a frown as Saige’s jasmine scent approaches my room. Saige’s figure suddenly fills the doorway, dressed in my oversized white shirt, her long dark hair in a braid, swaying slightly. Aden braided it when she was shifting around a lot in bed and her hair was getting tangled. Now, there are a few fine strands that have come loose around her face that my fingers itch to smooth back.

“Saige?”

She’s looking in my direction, but her blue-gray eyes are wide and unfocused, so I try calling her again, “Saige? What’s wrong?”

Is she sleepwalking?

She sways a little more.

I’m pushing myself to my feet when she moves again. Toward me.

I watch her coming, not sure if I should call for Aden or what.

“Saige?”

There’s no response.

Fuck, what am I supposed to do?

Before I can do anything, she climbs into the bed beside me, slides her arm around my hip, and closes her eyes.

Her breathing evens out, and she’s deep asleep two seconds later.

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