Page 66 of Wild Card

I nod.

“Your love of peanut butter just took a dive.”

“Why?”

“We did a full blood panel and nothing stands out. All your labs are great. But your body was fighting off something fierce. We’re working on a theory you had a reaction to the peanut butter in your stomach contents.”

“But—” I begin to argue when Chase goes on.

“It’s not unheard of for people to develop allergies later in life. It’s not a hundred percent, but we have to weed it out.”

I slink back to Talon’s side.

A smear of red catches my attention, and I bring our linked hands to his shirt, eyeing him curiously.

“Some of it’s from your lip. You bit through it when you collapsed. The other is from Wolf.”

At this, I bolt back up, tears forming as the blood pressure monitor goes crazy again. “Wolf?” I picture the worst.

“He stepped in the glass, but he’s fine. Ford took him to the vet. His paw is wrapped and he’s currently enjoying an afternoon of babying from the girls.”

I assume he’s referring to friend’s wives. Then my heart swells knowing he took care of my dog.

“Ford and Rowan will watch him tonight, too.”

My head jerks, eyes narrowing. “Why?” Whispering doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

“Because you may be here tonight. I called in a few requests and we’re running more tests,” my brother relays.

I lift my hands palms up. Didn’t he just say I have a peanut allergy?

“The peanut butter allergy is a working theory; it’s not confirmed. The Immunologist on call is doing a broader panel. We were waiting for your fever to break and for you to wake up.”

I blow out an exaggerated breath, falling back onto Talon’s shoulder. The movement triggers the vertigo and the water in my stomach threatens to reappear.

“Take it easy, Squeak,” he commands.

I crack an eye, glaring and hoping my brother gets the hint. Not only is he using my ridiculous nickname, he’s being bossy.

“I agree with your brother,” Talon pitches in. “Take it easy, your body went through a lot. You’re being loaded with fluids and watched for another reaction. The fever didn’t break for hours. This is the best place for you tonight.”

Grandma steps closer, covering our joined hands with her own. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

I glance down and catch the splotches on my shirt.

“She’s fine,” Talon responds.

“You will feel better after we get your face washed and teeth brushed.” She ignores him.

“Then clear the room and I’ll help her,” he counters brusquely.

Oh no, he cannot go head-to-head with my grandmother.

“I’ll be fine,” I try to appease them, internally grossed out that my clothes are probably soiled with vomit.

“Nonsense, let’s get you cleaned up,” Grandma goes on, pulling at my hand. “It’ll only take a few minutes to have you feeling a little more human.”

“I’ll handle it. Clear the room,” he says more cogently this time.

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