Page 97 of A Light in the Dark
“Maybe if you ask Calden nicely, he’ll rescue us with illicit food brought in from the outside.”
Coraline’s husband raised a brow. “You will survive hospital food for a few more days, Joel. It’s not like you’re up for cooking or eating out anyway. And, if my sources are correct, it’s a coin flip if you get sick on what you do eat. While bland, you were able to keep the hospital food down.”
Judging from the fact Joel refused to meet the wolf shifter’s eyes, there was a disconcerting amount of truth in his statement. “I’ll make sure he eats his hospital food and doesn’t try to coerce people into bringing things that make him vomit,” I promised.
“Thank you for being sensible, Valerie. I’ll see about bringing back something for Joel to do. He wasn’t going to raid your stash of fiber, his yarn is all at his parents’ place, and he can’t sew in his current state. I think he can handle some crochet and that’s it.”
“Just don’t get any rabbit yarn, however soft it is. He’s allergic to it.”
Calden’s eyes widened. “He’s allergic to rabbit?”
“Only their fur. I get my revenge eating it.”
I snickered at Joel’s disgusted tone. “Get fingering weight yarn in pale colors and ask the store for recommendations on hook size. That’ll keep him busy.”
“Fingering?” Joel protested. “Why fingering? Do you know how long it’ll take me to crochet anything in fingering weight?”
“Exactly. You’re not going to let some yarn defeat you, right?”
“You, woman, are evil.”
“Shop online for a pretty blanket pattern, Calden, andbring it along with the supplies over. I’ll pay you back for everything.”
“I’ll do that, but paying us back won’t be necessary. Keeping the hostages happy is a good use of funds, and maybe he’ll feel indebted after the crafting supplies, thus opting to lose when it’s time for the gaming tournament.”
“Keep dreaming,” Joel said. “I will not lose to you.”
No, they’d lose to me and Coraline, but I’d let both men learn the bitter truth of that in the days to come.
THIRTY
I think I’ll survive being exploited.
The transfusion processtook three hours, and topping my tank did wonders for me. Joel, on the other hand, went to nappy land as soon as the procedure finished, which the doctor and nurses reassured me was what they’d hoped for. As they had the luna moth’s permission, two of the hospital’s doctors, both women, explained the complications with his head injury, why they’d allowed the transfusion in the first place, and that he’d be closely monitored for the next few days to make certain the swelling in his brain stayed down.
Using a mixture of magic and medicine, they piggybacked on the transfusion process to reduce the damage the bat had done, and they expected my neighbor to sleep through the next full day.
While they’d found evidence of where I’d been struck, I’d escaped his level of injury.
Then, the women confessed they were using me to keep him in line and give him a chance to recover, somethingstress and separation impaired. In reality, they would have been willing to release me in the morning, but they’d keep me for observation so they could monitor Joel’s health.
The hospital in Stonecreek had been more than happy to transfer him to Moonriver, as Moonriver boasted better facilities for the injuries Joel suffered from.
Keeping a straight face, I informed them I had the worst headache ever, and if they could hand me my project keeper, I’d somehow tolerate the utter agony. I estimated it would take at least two days for the headache to fade.
They laughed at me, well aware I’d ditched my headache already and was unlikely to endure any more of them, especially with the painkillers they gave me every few hours.
Once they left, I stitched, kept an eye on Joel, and caught naps when I needed to give my hands a break from my creative work. I kept my complaints about the hospital food to myself, and when I got home, the first thing I’d do was dig out my deer haunch from the freezer and go on a binge of a favorite food. I’d even invite Joel over to enjoy the bounty.
By the time Joel woke up, a rather slow process due to his sleepy nature, I’d gotten enough of my cross-stitch project finished to recognize the upper left corner involved a forest of some sort. I grinned at the man, who grumbled curses, shot dark glares at the IV, and otherwise made it clear he’d rather be at home in his comfy bed.
“I can’t fix your comfy bed problems, but the hospital food was bland yet tolerable, so that’s something.”
Joel regarded me with a pout. “I feel like molasses.”
“Well, you’ve slept a whole day. You needed it. How does your head feel?” As the nurses had asked me to press mysummon button when he’d woken enough to be communicative, I did as told before returning to my stitching.
“Much better,” he admitted, and he wiggled to sit up without making use of the bed’s remote.
