Chapter 7
A crack of thunder split the dark and lit up the whole room.
That was when I realized how badly I was burning.
It felt like heat was rising straight out of my bones.
I tried to get out of bed. I needed medicine. I needed help. There was no way I’d make it to morning like this.
But the second I stood up, my knees gave out.
I hit the floor hard.
The sound echoed through the dark room.
A moment later, my bedroom door opened.
Lightning flashed again, and in that stark white light, I saw Olivia standing in the doorway.
Rain thundered outside.
She crossed the room quickly, crouched beside me, and touched my forehead with one cool hand.
“You’re burning up,” she said, her voice suddenly stripped of all playfulness. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I mumbled, barely able to get the words out.
“I just moved in here. I don’t even know where the medicine is.” She slipped an arm around me. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
She dressed me like I was half a child and half something fragile. Raincoat. Hood. Mask. Her movements were quick but careful.
In my fever haze, I forgot all about Nate.
I only remembered that as she secured the hood beneath my chin, I slurred, “Happy birthday.”
She stilled.
Then she bent close, warm breath brushing my ear.
“At the party,” she whispered, “why didn’t you say it to me then? Everyone else did. Why were you hiding in the corner?”
My mind was a mess, but I still answered honestly.
“I was scared.”
She had looked so bright that night, standing among people with raised glasses and easy smiles. I had wanted to go over to her more than once, but every time I’d gotten close, I’d backed away again.
I was afraid I didn’t belong in her light.
So I had saved it for now.
For this strange, private moment in the middle of the storm.
“You idiot,” Olivia murmured.
And then something soft, cool, and shocking brushed my ear.
I trembled so hard I almost forgot the fever.
By the time she carried me to the car, I was barely conscious.
At some point, I fell asleep in the backseat.
And when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in the car.
I was on Olivia’s back.
Rain pounded around us in wild gray sheets. The road ahead was dark, empty, cut by pools of yellow streetlight.
I panicked and grabbed her shoulders. “Put me down. I can walk.”
“The car died halfway there,” she said over the rain. “Hospital’s three miles downhill.”
“No. You’re too thin. I’m heavy. Put me down.”
“You’re burning alive and you think I’m going to let you walk?”
Her voice was firm, absolute.
Then she softened. “I work out, okay? Carrying you is nothing. Be good.”
I still don’t know how someone who looked so lean could be that strong.
But she carried me.
Three whole miles through pounding rain.
She kept adjusting the raincoat so most of it covered me instead of her. Water hit the back of her jacket in hard, sharp bursts. Drops slid off her hair and down the side of her face like beads.
At some point, I started crying.
I couldn’t even tell if it was rainwater or tears anymore.
“Put me down,” I whispered again.
She shook her head.
“Emma,” she said quietly, “how could I ever bear to let you suffer?”
Something inside me cracked open then.
Because no one had ever said anything like that to me before.