Page 43 of Between Love and War
“Haley,” I deadpan. “I’m not dying.”
“Yet,” she mutters.
Bon grabs my wrist and starts dragging me toward the end of the street. “Our house is right there,” she says, pointing to a house a few steps away. “Ryan’s there. He’ll fix it.”
“Bon, I don’t need—”
“Don’t argue with me!” she snaps, eyes wide with mock horror. “You want gangrene? You want to lose your hand? Imagine playing basketball with one hand! That’s tragic!”
“Since when do you know words like gangrene?” Haley asks, following us.
“Since I married a hot doctor, thank you very much.”
“Translation: you binge-watchedGrey’s Anatomy.” Bon shoots Haley a look but she just laughs it off.
Richard, utterly unhelpful, is doubled over laughing. “This is the best day of my life,” he wheezes. “Michael Lee, national star, taken out by… a metal stall post.”
I glare at him. “You could help me, you know.”
“I am helping,” he says cheerfully, following behind us. “I’m providing moral support.”
Haley leans in close, voice just loud enough for me to hear. “So. Midnight basketball with Kate, huh?”
I sigh, blood dripping down my wrist, wishing I’d stayed home with my sad beige food.
By the time we reach Bon and Ryan’s house, Bon is dragging me by the wrist like I’ve lost a limb, Haley’s yelling “Stat!” for dramatic effect, and Richard is laughing so hard he’s wheezing behind us.
Bon doesn’t even walk gently. She just barges in, fruit shake in one hand, my bloodied hand in the other.
“RYAN!” she screams. “He’sbleeding! It’s an emergency.”
I half expect Ryan to run down the stairs or drop whatever he’s doing at Bon’s tone of urgency, but he just calmly walks out of the kitchen, securing his watch on his wrist. He looks like he’s about to leave, but he approaches us anyway.
“Bonbon,” he says. “Please tell me this is anactualemergency. We talked about this. Papercuts are not a reason for amputation. And stomach aches are not life-threatening.”
“This is serious!” she insists, thrusting my hand toward him like she’s presenting evidence in court. “Look! Blood!”
Ryan peers at it for a grand total of two seconds. “That’s… a scratch.”
“A deep scratch!” Haley adds helpfully, sipping from Bon’s second fruit shake.
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Does it hurt when I do this?” He gently presses around the wound.
“Little bit,” I mutter.
“Yeah, you’ll live.” Ryan grabs a first-aid kit from a shelf like this happens weekly. Knowing this town, it probably does. “Sit down.”
I sit, and finally look around. The first thing I notice is how… alive their house feels. It’s loud without being noisy—walls filled with mismatched picture frames, travel souvenirs, and Polaroids of Bon and Ryan’s friends crammed into Magnolia Heights’ tiny spaces.
And then my gaze catches on a smaller photo wedged between wedding pictures. Bon with Kate. She’s laughing sohard, her eyes are shut, powdered sugar smeared on her cheek like she doesn’t care. She looks… different. Lighter. I look away before Bon catches me staring.
Bon hovers over me like a helicopter parent while Ryan disinfects my hand. “Do you think he needs stitches? Ry, what if it’s tetanus?”
“Bonita,” Ryan says flatly, “stop diagnosing people.”
Haley smirks from the counter, munching on bacon that’s probably not hers. “Would make a good headline, though.Michael Lee Injured by a Metal Post After Midnight Basketball Game with Local Girl.”
I groan. “Can we not bring Kate into this?”
