Page 96 of The Diamond in the Rough

“Right,” Raj acknowledged.

When his dark-skinned hands carefully eased the glove over my hand, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his pale yellow button-down so that they didn’t touch my skin.

I took the second one from him, forcing myself to sit up, although I still felt terrible.

“Here, kid.”

I looked over at Hart, who was handing me a water bottle with a straw top. I stared at it.

“Jesus, Hart, he has to touch that to drink from it.”

“He’s got gloves on.”

“With hismouth, dumbass.”

“Fuck. Sorry, kid. Hang on.” Hart headed back into the building, yelling something about anyone having a goddamn Coke.

Sitting up was making me dizzy, so I dropped my face back into my now-gloved hands, fighting the urge to lay down. Raj’s hand returned to my back, gentle and slow.

“S-sorry,” I managed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” came the low response. “We put you through hell today, and you took a lot more than anyone was expecting.”

I turned toward him, turning my face so I could look between my gloved fingers. I expected to read pity or some sort of condescension on his features, but I only saw concern and tiredness.

Feet approached from my other side, so I heaved myself back to sitting up, looking up at Hart.

“Here, kid,” he said, holding out a bottle of Dr. Pepper. “You’ve got gloves and the mouth bit is hidden by the cap. And it’s sugar, so it’ll help with the energy drain from the magic use.”

He must have been worried about me, because that was more words without swearing than I’d heard from him in a long time. Possibly ever.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle of soda. I wasn’t really a big fan of soda—it’s too sweet for me most of the time—but it was cold and liquid and might actually stay in my stomach now, and that was more important than whether or not I liked the taste of it.

My gloves slid on it.

“You want me to do it?” Hart asked.

I sighed, but offered up the bottle so that he could use his bare hands to open the cap, then hand it back to me. “Thanks,” I said meekly, then took a cautious sip.

It was sweet, with that strange grenadine aftertaste that was oddly addictive. I didn’t immediately have a surge in nausea, so I tried a second sip.

“That okay?” Raj asked me, and I noticed that his hand was still resting on my back. That was fine—I didn’t want him to take it away—just surprising that he’d left it there, even with Hart and the other FBI agents milling around. And how furious he had every right to be with me.

“Jesus Christ, this was brutal,” came Cass’s voice as she walked up, Drew Shao following silently in her wake, although he nodded. “I can’t even—” She broke off whatever she’d been about to say when she saw me. “You gonna be okay, Rayn?”

I shrugged. “Eventually.” I swallowed the saliva that gathered in my mouth. “Probably.”

“You a hugger?” she asked me.

I blinked up at her. “I don’t know?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She plopped down on my other side, then wrapped me in a hug, almost making me spill my Dr. Pepper. Instinctively, Raj gripped my elbow, steadying my hand. I tried to smile at him in thanks over Cass’s thick red-brown ponytail, although I was pretty sure it was pathetic and sickly.

“Agent Hart!” The approaching agent, whose name I didn’t know, was breathless and excited.

“What?” Hart asked.

Cass pulled away from me, pushing herself to standing. “What’ve you got Hal?”