“You look terrible,” he says flatly.
I smile. “Good thing you don’t love me for my looks.”
“Not only for your looks, no,” he says, with his signature dry wit, but he’s clearly not about to be put off by something as easy as a joke. He shifts his attention to the nurse seated in front of me. “She was severely ill with pneumonia less than a week ago. I was thinking on the way over—she might be too weak for this to be safe.”
The nurse tenses and frowns at me. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask,” I say, anxiety prickling at the back of my neck.
“Were you on antibiotics?” she asks.
“Yes, but—” She reaches for a cotton ball and presses it to the needle in my arm. I hold up a hand in front of her face. “Wait! I’m fine. We’re almost done.”
“We’re done right now,” she says, her eyes tense above her facemask. “You can’t donate blood if you’ve been on antibiotics in the past seven days. There’s a chance you could spread the infection, and we don’t—”
“Better infected than dead.” I grab her wrist, causing the needle to jerk under my skin, sending another hot shiver of nausea roiling in my gut. “I’m his only chance. Please. I feel fine now. I’m not running a fever.” She hesitates, and I press, “Please. He’s my friend. We grew up together.” I nod toward Jeffrey. “And he wasn’t even supposed to be in here. Ignore him, pretend he never said a word. I won’t tell.”
The nurse’s eyes slide Jeffrey’s way. “I could lose my license.”
“A man could lose his life,” Jeffrey says. “She’s right. It’s worth the risk.” He starts to move away but then sticks his head back through the door to add, “Unless she’s hurt. Her safety comes first, or heads will roll. Understood?”
“Understood,” the nurse says, her opinion of the General audible in her tone.
Jeffrey fixes me with a no-nonsense glare. “I’ll be in the lobby when you’re done. Be a hero, not a fool, Elizabeth.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, too dizzy to fight with him. Besides, I know the General only comes out when he’s worried or scared. He’s cranky because he loves me, and that’s a lovely reason to be a grouch.
After he’s gone, the nurse mutters beneath her breath, “No offense, but who does he think he is? The King of France?”
I giggle. “No, he’s second in line. And not in France.”
The woman’s brows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I say, my tongue thick and sticky in my mouth. “I think I’m…done. Everything’s spinning.”
“Okay, hang in there, and let me get you patched up.” She quickly and efficiently removes the needle, covering the wound with a cotton ball and sticking a bandage on top before she stands. “Stay here and take a few deep breaths. I’m going to run these up to the second floor, then I’ll get you some juice.” She squeezes my arm. “You did a good job.”
I don’t know if she’s telling the truth—we only filled one and a half of the two bags she brought into the room—but I did the best I could.
All that’s left to do now is pray that it’s enough. I wasn’t raised in the church, and considering the curse, I’ve always felt that, if there was a higher power, it wasn’t on my side.
But maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe the universe has mercy set aside for me. Maybe it’s just been waiting for me to ask for it.
I fold my arms on the tray attached to the chair, bend my head to rest on top, and close my eyes…
Please let Rafe be okay.
Please let the curse end with me, the way Kaula said it would.
Please let the future be better than the past, with lots of blank pages waiting for me to write in them. With Jeffrey.
As if summoned by my thoughts, his deep voice rumbles from the doorway, “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I lift my head, surprised to find it clearer, calmer than it was before.
“I brought orange juice.” He holds up a cardboard container with a cartoon orange with big pink lips. “The woman at the desk gave me permission this time. I had to autograph an intake form for her granddaughter, but…”
“Her granddaughter collects forms?” I tease, smiling when he lets out a long sigh. “You like my jokes.”
“Your jokes are my favorite jokes,” he says, claiming the nurse’s now-empty seat and setting the orange juice on my tray. “You’re my favorite person. But if you still have feelings for Rafe, I…understand.”
I blink. “I’ll always have feelings for Rafe, but not those sorts of feelings. Not these sorts of feelings.” I cup his scruffy face in my hand, lips curving as I brush my fingertips over the stubble. “I bet you’re very handsome with a beard.”