Page 65 of Wild Card

“Don’t talk. Text me what you remember.”

I type it out quickly and send. He scans it over, then reads aloud for everyone.

“Talon found you unconscious on the living room floor. When you didn’t respond, he brought you here to Vanderbilt. I was waiting in the ER. Upon arriving, your fever had spiked to one-oh-five and your pulse was dangerously low. You were convulsing, still unresponsive. They performed a gastric lavage?—”

I throw my hand in the air, bulging my eyes to my brother and his damn medical lingo.

“You had your stomach pumped,” he illuminates. “Which is why you have stomach and throat discomfort. Your tongue may be swollen, too.”

Discomfort my ass! This shit sucks.

I shoot off a text to him.

Talon’s arm circles my shoulders. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers, and kisses my knuckles. All my irritation evaporates. It’s all I can do not to melt into him.

Stomach pumping is a bit extreme, isn’t it?

Talon grumbles, reading the message I send.

“Having absolutely no fucking clue what was wrong, it was my suggestion,” Chase endorses. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Scared the shit out of all of us,” Dad rumbles.

For the first time, I notice how tattered my grandpa looks. His dark eyes are trained on me, the lines on his forehead deeply furrowed, his lips pursed.

“I’m okay,” I mouth to him.

His expression fills with warmth as he squeezes my foot. Then he aims his gaze to Talon.

The reality of this situation hits me full force and a squeak escapes.

My grandma, my grandpa, and myDADare all here.

Talon’s next to me.

I’m curled into him in a bed wearing my pajamas from last night. He’s wrapped me close, holding my hand.

He kissed my knuckles.

Not only that, but not one person is fazed by this fact.

He picks up on my freak out, his lips curling. “We’re acquainted.”

“Yes, we are.” Grandma’s tone is dreamy.

“Very well acquainted after watching you sleep attached to him.” Dad’s voice isn’t so dreamy. It’s more of a curt complaint. “The boy won’t leave your side.”

I can’t help but giggle at him calling Talon a boy.

The light activity reminds me of the soreness in my throat. Which brings the issue crashing back.

What’s wrong with me?

Chase reads the text and sighs loudly.

“What?”I mouth.

He takes another breath and I brace for the worst. “Did you eat peanut butter for dinner last night?”

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