Page 57 of Gideon

Nikki glared at him. “She’s fine.” But he wasn’t looking at her.

He reached a hand out toward Isabel. “Why don’t I get you out of here?”

“I told you, she’s fine.”

Fairfax smiled at Isabel. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

Isabel let go of Nikki.

“You don’t have to go with him,” Nikki said.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have left the farm.” She took the mayor’s hand, and he pulled her close, wrapping her arm around his and locking it there. Nikki wanted to rescue her, but her friend had made her choice.

“Isabel?” Nikki tried one last time, but the other woman didn’t turn as Fairfax led her to his car. He whispered to her before he opened the door and she shrank but didn’t look back.

Nikki made a fist, but all she could do was press it against her hip. How could so much go wrong so quickly?

Once Isabel was inside the car, Nikki turned backtoward the fire. All she could do was hope and pray that Gideon wasn’t hurt bad enough to take him out of God’s plan.

The smell of smoke still filled Gideon’s nostrils when he awoke. Just like when he’d had the dream about the totems burning. With his eyes still closed, he relaxed back into his pillow. It had all been a dream. Probably the worst one he’d ever had, but his dad was safe. He was safe.

He cleared his throat, sending a searing pain through his chest, which was then set alight by a coughing fit. He choked for breath, pushing himself up in the bed, but his arms were tied down.

His eyes wouldn’t open, and he couldn’t reach his face to see why. He pulled harder, finally touching the grit that coated his eyelashes.

“Let me get that.” It was a woman’s voice, soft—but her grip on him wasn’t.

“Nikki?”

“She’s in the waiting room. Lean back for me or you’ll hurt yourself.”

Then he remembered. He’d woken up in the hospital when they’d first brought him in. He’d tried to ask them about his dad, but every time he moved the oxygen mask, they pulled his hands away.

“My—” His voice was scratchy, and it hurt to speak, but he tried again. “My dad. Joey.”

She continued wiping at his eyes with a wet cloth until she’d cleared them. “There. How’s that?”

He blinked, and her blurry figure got clearer. She was a matronly-looking woman in blue scrubs.

“I can see, but they burn,” he said, reaching for them again.

She grabbed his wrist. “Hold on a second. One thing at a time.” After untangling the tubes and wires, he was mostly free again. “There. Go slow.”

He twisted his arm and looked at the cannula, blinking again to better his focus, but his eyes had cleared as much as they were going to. “You didn’t answer me about my dad.”

“If you pull that out,” she said, looking at him from under her eyebrows. “You’ll answer to me. Now, sit tight for a minute so I can check you over.” She took his arm and pressed her fingers to his wrist, checking his pulse. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake again,” she said as she added a note to his chart. “Lift your arm, please.”

He did, and she wrapped a wide strap around it.

He cleared his throat. If felt and sounded like gravel scrapping his lungs. “Are you not telling me on purpose? If he didn’t make it, I want to know.” The pump vibrated as it tightened around his bicep. “Please.”

“All I can tell you is that he’s awake.”

“So, he’s alive.”

“Yes.”

“But not doing well?”

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