Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Aury
Out of everyone she could have called for help, she chose me.
I force myself to drive carefully to the hospital, despite my urge to ignore all the driving laws in an attempt to get to her as soon as possible.
When I arrive, the nurse shows me to her room, and I halt outside the door before going in.
She looks so tiny in the big hospital bed, with wires stuck all over her, her head wrapped in bandages and a splint on her wrist. My chest hitches, and it’s hard to breathe through it knowing I could have prevented this.
As though she senses me, her head turns and her blue eyes meet mine. She smiles, small and wavering, then raises her hand in a tentative wave. Does she think I’m going to take one look at her and turn around? My heart thunders in my chest at the thought.
Never.
I force myself to smile back, pushing aside my anger and disappointment in myself, and then stride into the room.
“Hey, Moonbeam,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“Hi,” she says. Her voice is raspy, and she looks like she’s trying to put on a brave face. I wish she wouldn’t; I want to be there for all of her. “I’m okay.”
“You ready to get out of here?”
She nods, but her eyes don’t leave me. I stick my head out the door and ask the nearest nurse if we’re good to go.
“Here’s her discharge instructions. Will you be staying with her?
” the nurse asks, providing information on follow up care and what to keep an eye out for, indicating it’s important she not be alone for the next few days.
Apparently, omegas can be especially sensitive to certain injuries, with concussions being one of them.
I glance at Siobhan, but she doesn’t say anything, so I nod to the nurse. If she needs someone to stay with her, I absolutely can and will. The nurse passes me a stack of printed papers, and then a brochure for what to do after a concussion.
“Bring her back if her confusion gets worse, if she has trouble waking up, frequent vomiting or severe headaches. No ibuprofen or aspirin, acetaminophen only if needed. The rest is in there. Any questions?”
I shake my head. “Nope, got it. Siobhan? Any questions?”
She shakes her head, then winces and wrinkles her nose.
“Alright, hun. Let’s get you unplugged.” The nurse removes all the wires and turns off the monitor, and then we’re signing out and on our way.
We walk slowly to the car, and I help her into the front seat, then reach across to buckle her in.
She smells like over-steeped, bitter black tea with a side of hospital, and I hate the clear sign of distress.
Once I have her settled, I hop in the driver’s seat and ask for her address to plug into my phone.
I fiddle with the heat settings, and my eyes keep darting to her every few seconds, like at any moment she might wilt or pass out, despite being cleared to go home.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling?” I don’t want to nag, but she looks like she got the shit kicked out of her. It hurts my heart.
“I’m okay,” she says. Her eyes are fixed on her lap where her uninjured hand is fiddling with one of her many dainty silver bracelets.
I can tell she’s scared, both from her scent and body language, but I don’t let on to it.
She’s a fighter, and I respect that she needs time before trusting me fully.
How could she know that I’d gladly do anything she asked?
We twist through side streets, making our way into the nicer neighborhood of town.
Should I bring up the fact they asked about me staying with her?
I don’t know how alert she was during that conversation, but it feels important for her to know.
I wish I had packed an overnight bag, but as soon as she texted me earlier, I jumped up and quite literally ran to the door.
Bunny yelled at me the whole time, like she wanted me to hurry up.
I’ll need to swing by later to put some extra food and water out for her, maybe see if my neighbor can stop in tomorrow as well.
“So, I’m not sure how much you were, uh…” I trail off, not wanting to offend her, but when I glance at her from the corner of my eye, she’s got a rueful smile on her face. Her head is turned sideways against the backrest, avoiding her injury, and she’s looking straight at me.
“I’ve been kind of out of it, I know,” she says, shrugging one shoulder. “What did I miss?”
I clear my throat. “Well, it seems like they were saying someone should stay with you for a couple days? Is that, I mean, I could…”
She’s staring at me when I flick my eyes to her and then away again, and my cheeks heat. I’m being too forward. She’ll want one of her friends to come stay with her, not me. Probably one of the ones taking the class with her.
“Nevermi—”
“You’d stay with me?” she whispers. Her scent softens, some of the spicy fear dissipating as it turns a touch sweeter.
My gaze darts to her and holds this time, locking with her crystalline blue eyes. “I’d stay with you for as long as you’ll have me,” I say. And then my entire face and neck heat up because what in the foolish, besotted world was that?
She blinks for an eternity, her eyes roving over my face, searching out my truth. But I laid myself bare before her. There’s no deception or lie to be found. So I let her search, sitting at this stop sign for as long as she needs while indecision flits across her face.
Finally, she swallows hard. Licks her lips. And nods.
“I’d really like that, Aury,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
A smile blooms across my face and I straighten in my seat. “Good, then I’ll stay.”
Her scent sweetens further, and a tiny smile pulls at the bruises on her jaw. I wonder if there’s a way to speed up healing for bruises? I’ll have to look it up. Or maybe she knows of something; she is quite witchy, after all.
I pull up to her house in no time, and my jaw falls open. “This is where you live?”
“Yeah,” she says with a light huff. “I inherited it from my great-aunt. Not much family to pass it down to, and my parents had no interest in staying in town once I turned eighteen.”
She shrugs, but there’s pain behind her words.
“It’s beautiful. And huge.”
She laughs this time, then grimaces and puts a hand to her head.
“Ah shoot, sorry,” I say, reaching over to unbuckle her. “Stay there.”
She grumbles under her breath, but I can’t make out what she says.
I leap out of the car and round to her side, pulling open her door and helping her step out. I keep one hand hovering over her head to make sure she doesn’t bump it, then I take her hand in mine, holding her steady as we make our way to her front door.
All the while one thought circles in my brain, permeating and suffusing itself like smoke into all other thoughts.
She wants me here.
I try not to hover, I really do, but it’s impossible not to. Everything is a threat: her shiny wooden floor, the many layered rugs, sharp corners, and endless bookshelves. So many hazards just waiting to further injure her.
I manage not to plaster my ear to the bathroom door when she insists on showering, but it’s a close call. Finally, she emerges and I follow her into the kitchen where we rummage up some water and snacks.
“I feel loads better,” she says with a sigh. “Would you like a tour?”
I shake my head. “Maybe later. You’re supposed to rest and you’ve been on your feet long enough.”
She rolls her eyes, and one side of my mouth quirks up. So it’s like that, is it?
“I’ll just show you the basics, then.” She wanders down the hall, looking like an ethereal fairy amid the ferns and foxes and moths that adorn the deep green wallpaper on either side.
She points out her bedroom, cracking the door to show a wall of bookshelves and a bed with dark purple blankets and pillows covering it.
Three guest rooms are next, which she tells me I can take my pick of, then there’s an extra bathroom that has the darkest blue wallpaper with thin, metallic gold stars and moons falling from the ceiling.
The mirror looks vintage with a thick gold frame, and plants hang from the ceiling in front of a frosted window.
Lastly, she flicks her fingers at the closed door at the end of the hall. “And my nest.”
I try not to breathe too deeply for fear of her catching me trying to huff more of her tea-infused scent. It’s addictive, even for me as a beta. Her entire space is soaked in it, and it smells like heaven.
We make our way back down the hall and settle on a plush velvet couch in the living area for now.
It’s more like a reading room, with floor to ceiling bookshelves filling two of three walls.
I’d love to peruse them someday, when an at-risk omega isn’t needing my full attention.
There are crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors on nearly every surface.
“I’m on screens enough for work,” she says. “I don’t have a TV, but there’s a hidden projector if you want to watch anything.”
I pull out the post-concussion care list the nurse gave me and flip through it, confirming what I suspected. I tap the paper with one finger. “Looks like minimizing screens is recommended after a concussion. Maybe we can chat for a bit instead? Or would you like to take a nap?”
She nods, then wrinkles her nose. I imagine nodding doesn’t feel great.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she says. “But chatting would be nice. You also don’t have to babysit me though, I promise I’m okay on my own.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But I’d like to stay. Is that okay?”
Her lips tilt up, and she rests the uninjured side of her head against the back of the couch, curling her legs underneath her and tugging a fluffy, cream colored pillow to her chest.
“Yeah, that’s okay.”
I don’t mind confirming as many times as needed to ease her worries. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
“Soooo, I follow your social account,” I share, deciding work is a safe territory for now.
“You do?” Her eyebrows pop up, and I grin at her surprise.
Of course I do, silly omega. “Yeah, it’s really interesting. How does it work for a job?”
“Oh.” She tucks a strand of the palest gold hair behind her ear and bites her lip, then glances at the books around us. “Well, I have a few brand affiliations, and I get paid well for the content I create for them. Mostly clothing, jewelry, that type of thing.”
I nod and lean my head against my fist, my elbow propped on the back of the couch so I’m turned sideways facing her. “That’s cool.”
“I don’t just collab with anybody, though,” she rushes to say. “I’m picky about who I work with, and I don’t sign any contracts until I’ve tried their product and know I like it. Luckily, I have enough of a following to negotiate my pay, so if they don’t agree to what I want, I can say no.”
She shrugs like that’s no big deal, but I literally can’t imagine doing what she does. She’s clever and tenacious. She knows her worth and she demands it. My admiration for her continues to grow with every minute I spend in her presence.
“I also do tarot readings for people. I do a live stream every Sunday, then post content throughout the week, and I make time for a couple private readings each day, too. It’s fun, and I like helping people.”
“Will you do one for me?” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
Her lips part in surprise and she stares at me for a moment, then her smile lights up the whole room. “Yeah, sure,” she says. She gestures to a bookcase across the room from us. “My decks are over there, go ahead and pick whichever one calls to you.”
Trying not to feel self-conscious with her knowing blue eyes following my every move, I skim my eyes over the various decks, finally landing on one called “Spiritsong”.