Chapter 78

Fiona

Leaning against the edge of the bed, I lift my leg and study the white wrappings around my ankle and foot. The harsh burning is now only a dull, itchy throb, just enough to be uncomfortable and slightly maddening.

I lean over, but a coughing fit makes me straighten up, wheezing and hacking until I can breathe again.

The room is familiar, the guest room at Ethan’s house, but I haven’t seen him since I woke up a few minutes ago. A set of clothes is laid across the chair near the bed, and I shuffle over to them and bring them back to the bed because I don’t know if I could stand fully at the moment even if I wanted to.

My mind runs as I pull the sweatpants on. How did I get here? The last thing I remember is being surrounded by fire in the hallway and then nothing. No memory of how I got out. No idea if someone came for me or if one of my neighbors called the fire department.

Shaking my head, I try to fight against the anxiety unfurling in my stomach.

A hazy memory picks at my mind. Ethan shouting my name over the roar over the blaze of the fire. His hands on me. Pain. Heat. Worry.

He was there.

Ethan came for me.

Stumbling toward the door, I pull it open and almost fall through it. Ryan, who must have been waiting on the other side, catches me.

“Woah, what’s the hurry? You’re hurt,” he says, standing me back up on my feet.

Without thinking, I try to shove him aside, but when he keeps a steady hold on me, I glare at him. My fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and shake him desperately.

“Wh-ere is h-he?” I demand, my voice cracked and raspy. I have to know. Ethan didn’t abandon me. He didn’t lie when he said he’d be there for me when I needed someone. He came for me like he promised he would, even after I shut him out.

Desperate need to find Ethan rises, churning my gut and squeezing my heart.

“Is h-he okay?”

Ryan stays silent, his hands holding my forearms to keep me steady, so I shake him again.

“Ryan,” I whimper. The rasp in my voice deepens at his silence, hoping it doesn’t mean what I think it means. “Is Eth-an okay?” I ask again. Ryan’s eyes find the floor, and he takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Ethan… he’s hurt. The doctor said the poison in his system weakened him—”

My heart drops heavy into my stomach at his words.

“Poison? Who poisoned…” My words fall off as I remember the fight the other night. They’d poisoned Ethan with something that could hurt Lycans, which made him weak and sick. I remember him saying something about it, but I thought they’d taken care of it.

Releasing Ryan, I take off down the hall, hobbling and stumbling as I go. My lungs burn uncomfortably, but my only thought is getting to Ethan. I have to see him, to make sure he’s okay. He has to be.

I haven’t thanked him.

I haven’t gotten to apologize.

My entire body aches, and I almost fall over as I stagger through the hallway to Ethan’s room. The only thing that keeps me from collapsing is that I’m leaning on the wall as I walk. Just a few more steps and I’ll be there. Five feet. I can make it five feet to his room.

“Fiona, do you need help?” Ryan asks, coming up behind me. What took me five minutes to walk took him five seconds. I curse myself but push forward and into Ethan’s room. Immediately, my eyes find Ethan, pale and laid out in the bed. A man I don’t recognize stands over him, administering some sort of medicine.

“Ethan.”

Despite his weakened state, he jolts and sits up with a groan. Green eyes connect with mine, and a rush of relief as well as worry flow through me. He’s alright, considering. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be trying to climb out of the bed to get to me.

Moving as quickly as I can, I shuffle over to him, sit on the side of the bed, and take his hand in mine.

“Fiona, you shouldn’t be out of bed,” he mutters, pushing himself up. I help him by laying pillows behind his back and arranging them to help him sit up. He looks worse than he did the other night, and when he winces as he sits back, I squeeze his hand.

“I thought he got an antidote,” I mutter, lacing my fingers into Ethan’s. I look back at Ryan and the doctor for an answer. If he’s been treated already, why is he still sick? There shouldn’t be any problems, unless he got hurt while saving me.

Guilt claws at my insides, scraping away at the relief. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be fine. He was okay before the fire, or at least I thought he was, but I hadn’t really seen him. I ignored him and kept doors between us. I’d abandoned him while he promised to be with me. Then, he nearly sacrificed himself to save me.

Regret at my words and actions pushes the guilt aside, taking over.

“He did get the first dose, and now the second, but he’ll still need a third to get the wolfsbane fully flushed from his system,” Ryan informs me. I squeeze Ethan’s hand again, blinking at the tears filling my eyes.

“When can he get the third dose?” I ask the doctor. He glances at me, then at Ethan.

“Tonight, and after that, it should be only twenty-four hours before he’s back to normal,” the doctor answers. “The last dose can be self-administered, so I will leave it here, and Ryan can give it to you when it’s time.”

Nodding, Ethan thanks the doctor who leaves quickly. Ryan follows him out, leaving us alone, and I suddenly feel my chest tighten with fear, worry, and guilt. The feeling settles in my gut, making me shift in my spot on the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine, Fiona. Another day of rest, and I’ll be back to normal,” he tells me, rubbing a finger over my knuckles. I drop my head, lower my eyes, and study the fabric on the borrowed sweatpants. A shiver runs over my body, pulling goosebumps up on my arms and making the little hairs on my body stand on end.

“Fiona, look at me,” he murmurs. When I don’t look at Ethan, he sighs. Gentle fingers pinch my chin and lift. “I won’t hurt you, Fiona.”

“I… I…”

There’s a pause between us that seems to stretch for an eternity of us just staring into each other’s eyes.

“You don’t believe me.”

The hurt on his face says everything. He wants me to believe him, wants me to be here, and I hurt him. I did that. The pain he feels, inside and out, is my fault.

“I’m so sorry, Ethan. I don’t know what to do about this,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “I know it’s not a good excuse or reason, but I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening or how to process what you are, but I am sorry.”

Ethan’s body head grows closer to me, and I open my eyes, gasping when I find him only a few inches from me. He’s so close that his woodsy scent surrounds me, calming a bit of the anxiety that’s trying to drown me, but with his presence and touch, I see him as I used to.

Comforting.

Safe.

Ethan.

He’s not a monster. Not even close.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you, but I think I’m ready to hear your side of things. Being a wolf is- is, well I don’t know, but I want to talk so I can understand.”