Page 77 of Ladybirds

Sara swallows, opening her bedroom door. “It’s a long story.” From the couch, Seth tilts his head questioningly. She’s relieved to see no new injuries, but there’s fatigue in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Miles wants to talk to you.”

He blinks, drowsily, but holds out his hand expectantly. “Very well, then. Hand it over.”

Sara places it in his palm, sitting in the empty seat beside him and wringing her hands in her lap. She can hear the murmur of Miles’ voice, the questions in his tone, but can’t make out the words.

Seth releases a long sigh. “I assure you, there’s no cause for concern. No head injuries to fret over, no breaks to throw out any clots. The only thing that could use some attention is a laceration along the upper left quadrant. I would suture them myself, but I’m afraid I’m left-handed.”

Another garbled question from the other line, and Seth frowns—eyes meeting hers across the room. The weight in his gaze makes her breath still. “No.” Miles says something, and Sara can almost feel Seth’s irritation. “Because it isn’t.” He pauses, listening. “Well, because she won’t stop fussing.”

Overhearing Miles’ laughter, Sara takes the phone back. “I’m not fussing.”

“Yeah, ok,” he says, sounding entirely unconvinced. “Where’d you find this guy?”

Somehow, admitting that she met him in front of her hometown’s emergency room seems like the gateway to a longer conversation than she can deal with right now. “Uh, you know, around.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all. How long have you two been—”

No way she’s letting him finish that question.

“I’m going to get him a glass of water. I’ll see you soon, bye.” She hangs up, collapsing on the unoccupied section of the couch. There’s five missed messages displayed on her screen. Apparently, Jen has been texting her during the call.

How long have you been seeing this guy?

Is he cute?

Because he sounds hot as—

Sara drops it onto the couch without bothering to read the rest, hiding her face in her hands with an embarrassed groan. When she looks up, Seth looks as if he’s fighting a grin.

“You’re truly terrible at this. A child lies more convincingly.”

“I was trying to avoid lying, actually.”

His expression softens, smile warm. “I know. It was a commendable effort.” He sits up with a growling hiss, a hand resting over a large bruise spanning across his side. They look deeper than before, more angry. She wonders if she should be worried about broken ribs, too.

“What are you doing?” she scolds. “Lie down!”

“You’re too far away,” he grumbles, sitting up until they’re shoulder to shoulder. “It feels strange.”

His bare arm brushes hers, and she tries to suppress a shiver. Strange is definitely a word for it, though it isn’t the distance so much as the feeling that’s alien. “What do you mean?”

Head tilted back, the long expanse of his pale throat exposed, he closes his eyes. “The pull is gone.”

Sara shakes her head. “I have no idea what that means.”

He yawns, jaw cracking. The hand cradling ribs lifts to tap at the center of his chest clumsily, his voice a tired murmur. “Here. It’s all empty. Feels strange to have to look for you without it.”

It hardly answers her question, but Sara can’t bring herself to ask anything else. There’s an unguarded softness to his expression—lips parted, dark eyelashes trembling with an effort to remain open. He’s exhausted; beaten and bruised. How long has it been since he’s been able to rest? Her heart pangs, her hand reaching for his. She knows it’s been far, far too long. “I’m right here,” she assures him softly.

She catches the smallest of smiles before he drifts off to sleep.

It takes exactly twelve minutes for Miles to arrive; his knuckles a soft rap against the door. Too soft to wake the man beside her.

Slowly, Sara untangles their fingers—relieved when his breathing remains steady. Rising from the couch is a struggle, but she manages to grab her crutch and limp her way down the hallway before the knock can sound again. She’s barely opened the door, when Miles pins her with a knowing look.

“Don’t think I don’t know when you’re trying to avoid a question.”

Sara’s face heats. “This really isn’t the time.”

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