Page 103 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Lucia, baby, try to focus.”

What’s he talking about? I am focusing… oh, look at the blue, it’s totally mixing with the orange. Since I don’t want to see that, I try to lift my hand to swat it away. But my body isn’t obeying my command. I’m being betrayed by… myself.

“Fuck’s sake. I’m going to call someone.”

Yes. Call someone to tell them blue and orange should never mix.

There’s a swooshing sound, and then a woman speaks. “How can I help?”

Is she the color police? Oh no, now the green is out of control. Why are all the colors acting up like this? And why do I care?

“Oh dear,” the woman says. “Maybe her dose is too high.”

I notice a pressure on my hand, and when I look down, it quickly becomes clear why. The man, the red one, is holding it—squeezing it.

“You can call me anything you want, baby. Just please tell me you remember me,” he says.

Looking up at his handsome face, I’m filled with a sense of relief. He’s so pretty, and his beard looks fun to play with. I wonder if he’d let me twirl it around my fingers.

“There’s not a thing I wouldn’t let you do to me, sweet bunny.”

Huh, how can he read my thoughts?

“You’re speaking out loud, Lucia,” the woman giggles.

Moving closer, she bends over the man, her tits grazing his arm. I hiss and bare my teeth at her. She’s gray and orange. Two colors I don’t like or trust right now.

“Sorry,” she rushes out as she readjusts her position. “I was just trying to reach your drip. I promise that’s all.”

I huff and try to give her a benevolent look but I don’t think I succeed. I like that she corrected herself, so for now, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially since her gray is tinged with green, and I like green. It’s so pretty, and it’s… wait, what was I just thinking about?

The longer I lie there, the colors seem to become duller. Some of them are impossible to tell apart, and the more I blink, the fainter they become. A lump forms in my throat and I want to cry as I’m slowly losing all the pretty colors.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s all going to be okay.”

I look over at… “Sy?” I murmur, my voice sounding distant and dreamlike.

He’s there, sitting beside me, his hand gently clasping mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and relief. “Hey, bunny,” he says softly, his voice cutting through the fog in my mind.

I manage a weak smile, my thoughts still scattered and disjointed. “What... happened?” I ask, my words slurring together as if underwater.

Sawyer’s expression darkens slightly, and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “Fabian happened,” he explains, his voice heavy with sadness and anger. “He tried to stab me, but you jumped in front of me.” Instead of sounding grateful, he sounds angry.

“A simple thank you will suffice,” I smart, trying to lighten his mood.

He squeezes my hand harder. “You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed right now, or I’d make you pay. You’re not meant to risk your life for me, baby. Never that.”

“But I—”

Shaking his head, he talks over me. “What do you think would happen to me if you died?”

Blinking, I remember the flight to Rome, and the drive to the Vatican that followed. “I-I gave you what you needed to get out,” I croak. My throat feels raw, and it hurts to speak. “Can I have some water?”

Sy’s quick to reach for a bottle, even uncapping it before handing it to me. Once again, I try to lift my arm, but every movement is slow. He chuckles before placing his arm under my head, gently pushing me upward. Then he places the bottle between my lips, slowly pouring water directly into my mouth.

“Thank you,” I whisper once I’ve had enough.

When he goes to remove his arm I complain, and he pushes the remote so the headrest moves me into a half-seated position. Much better.

---