“I struggled to follow it, only to hear the words that would let me fall back to sleep. At last they came: Clay was alive. Still unconscious, and burning up with fever, but alive. I drifted back to sleep. When I awoke, my first thought was that I was in a hospital bed. The sheets were cool and crisp, the air around me equally cold, blinds drawn, lights out, room blanketed in the eerie hush reserved for those who are recovering or dying, the only sounds the whir of the air-conditioning fan. The... only thing lacking was the stink of disinfectant and overcooked food. As I roused myself, I dimly heard Jeremy’s voice in the next room, urgent and frustrated. I jumped up. My whole body screamed in protest and I froze, hovering there. Had I been hurt? No. There was a cut on my hand, but the protest was from pure exhaustion, my body having tasted rest and screaming for more. I started sinking back into the covers— Clay. I scrambled up. A hand closed on my bare arm. “It’s okay,” Nick whispered from beside the bed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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