Page 52 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Mauled,” I say, forcing detachment into my voice, as if I’m discussing a character from a book rather than my own mother. The room seems to close in, the walls absorbing my confession.

“That’s…peculiar,” he muses, his voice a blend of confusion and concern. “Vampire, spiritkin, or human? What did they decide the cause of death was?”

“Spiritkin,” I mutter, the absurdity of the situation wrapping around us like a thick fog. “Everything happened so damn fast. The autopsy. The police report. Dad bulldozed through her cremation before any real questions could be asked. Or answered.”

“That raises a ton of red flags,” he observes, his hands pausing in their meticulous work as the seriousness of his expression reflects the gravity of my words.

“And now you’ve stumbled into my labyrinth of secrets. I grew up under the shadow of the Puritas Umbra.” I attempt to sprinkle some levity into the darkness of the revelation, but it feels like throwing confetti into a void.

“And yet, you emerged more than just intact.” His eyes lock on mine, and I see a warmth there that feels like a beacon in the night.

The smile I muster up feels brittle. “I’d like to think so,” I whisper, a wave of vulnerability crashing over me, leaving me exposed under his steady gaze.

He returns to his task, the silence wrapping around us like a blanket. I’m suddenly aware of the gentle rhythm of his work, the careful stitches that put me back together, just like Humpty Dumpty. A bubble of safety envelops me, allowing my mind to drift toward rest. The sensation of being stitched back together, both physically and metaphorically, by Ethan’s skilled hands lulls me into a sense of peace I haven’t felt in ages. In his arms, I feel like the world and my worries can just fade away.

Until the dreams begin, and those skillful fingers are tending to me in other ways.

Ava

Fuck, I’m hot.

I’m trapped in a predicament that’s not of my own making, cocooned in a fortress of blankets that whispers promises of eternal warmth, yet I’m perilously close to becoming a human pretzel if I don’t move soon. It’s the ultimate comfort conundrum. As I internally debate the merits of risking muscle cramps for a few more moments of bliss, a yawn ambushes me, feeling like it’s going to dislocate my jaw. My eyes flutter open to a world that’s initially just a blur of colors until I blink the sleep away, piece by piece.

The morning sun hits the bedroom just right that the entire room appears illuminated, with beams of light cutting through the dormer windows like spotlights on a dance floor. It’s mildly disorienting, because last I checked, my bed didn’t come with a king-sized mattress or smell like a mix of the great outdoors and that enticing man scent. The temptation to bury myself deeper into my pillow fortress and ignore the world is strong, but then the door creaks open and in walks my very own Doctor McDreamy, looking like he just rolled out of a commercial. His hair is perfectly tousled, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Brody rumbles, his voice like warm molasses pouring over pancakes. He has that just woke up vibe that somehow makes him even more attractive, and he’s wearing sweats and a long-sleeved shirt that hugs him in all the right places.

“Hey,” I murmur, sitting up and ignoring the slight protest from my ribs and leg. My eyes zero in on the tray in his hands, because hello, food is life. “What do you have there?” I ask just as my stomach lets out a hellacious grumble.

With a grin that should be illegal before coffee, he saunters over, the smell wafting from the tray promising all kinds of breakfast delights. “Breakfast,” he announces, setting it down with a flourish, his eyes locking onto mine. “But first, bathroom and meds.”

I roll my eyes. “Super sexy, making your supposed mate do the pee-pee dance first thing in the morning.” Despite my defiance, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, grateful for the solid floor beneath my feet.

Brody’s chuckle is a soothing balm. “Considering yesterday’s torn stitch and your exhaustion, I’m playing it safe,” he explains, stepping back. He looks at me with so much concern and care for my well-being that it instantly overwhelms me.

Because no one has ever looked at you like that before these three.

“Touché,” I concede, standing with a grace I definitely don’t feel. “Help, please.” The bathroom seems unfairly far in this moment, my body still caught in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness.

Brody swoops in, offering his arm for support. We make our way forward, slow and steady. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I ask, curiosity nipping at me.

“I was. Wrapped up at six,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “It’s ten now.”

“Oh.” I really did sleep a long time.

Disorientation still clings to me as I navigate into the bathroom, throwing a longing look at the shower. I want nothing more than to climb under the hot spray, but I am willing to wait it out. I move as quick as I can while Brody waits just on the other side of the door.

Emerging back into the bedroom, I find Brody casually leaning against the closet door across from me, and his eyes roll over my body lazily.

“Whose room is this?” I ask, reaching for his hand, seeking not just balance but connection. I find myself doing that a lot with these three.

“Ethan’s,” he replies, his voice carrying layers of unsaid things I want to poke at. “He’s the clan heir, destined to be the next Alpha of Clan Hughes in Mystic Falls.”

The bed calls to me again, and I collapse onto it, ignoring the protest from my ribs. Brody’s by my side in an instant, his touch gentle as he helps me sit up, his brow furrowed in worry. He even fluffs my pillows for me.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs, his concern washing over me like a wave. His fingers ghost along my temple to behind my ear.

“That makes sense.” I yawn, fighting a battle to keep my eyes open. The fever raging through me turns my muscles into traitors and paints a throbbing ache across my head. Brody retreats to the closet, retrieving that damn medical tote—the same tote Ethan delved into yesterday to stitch me back together.

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