Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(85)

I closed my eyes and worked on breathing through the pain from that short walk.

Myra got in the car, started the engine, and headed down the street. It was late enough—or really, early enough—that there was no other traffic on the road.

“Are you taking me home?”

“You can’t walk up that many stairs.”

“Please don’t take me back to the hospital.” I couldn’t help it—I sounded pitiful.

She hesitated, then pressed her lips together. “I should.”

“I’ll just make them release me again.”

“What do you have against hospitals, Delaney?” she asked, exasperated.

The image of Mom hooked up to machines that had done her no good flashed behind my eyes. Myra had been too young to remember. Not me.

I wiped my hand over my eyes, and it was shaking. “Nothing.”

She exhaled. “Fine. You can stay with me tonight.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She flicked on the blinker and I closed my eyes. I opened them when the car stopped. We were parked in her garage. She helped me out of the car, through the utility room and kitchen, then into the spare bedroom.

I really needed those pain pills.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to help take off my boots, but she pushed my hands out of the way and took care of my shoes and my jeans. Ryder had just been doing the same thing a day ago.

Don’t think about Ryder. Ryder’s gone.

Melancholy swept through me and I was too tired to fight it.

“You okay?” Myra asked as she unzipped my hoodie and eased it off my arms, then pulled a soft cotton nightgown over my head. It smelled like her perfume—something on the sweet side of gardenia.

“Delaney,” she said softly, this time drawing her fingers across my forehead and then pressing the back of her hand there, checking for fever.

I wanted to tell her that I’d slept with Ryder, even though Old Rossi had warned me he was trouble. Old Rossi was right. Ryder had walked out on me.

I wanted to tell her about almost drowning in the power song, and how Dad had been there to help me.

But the pain in my side had stretched out and locked into my muscles. My stomach hurt and my head ached.

“Somebody shot me,” I mumbled.

Myra’s hand returned to feel my forehead. “I know,” she said. “Have you taken any medicine?”

“Not since the hospital. Dan doesn’t hate me that much.”

“Did they send you away with pills? Delaney? Look at me.”

I raised my eyes. Or opened them. I wasn’t sure which.

“Where are your pills?”

“Coat.” Then she was gone, which was too bad, because I was hoping she’d stay and help me crawl under the mattress so I could suffocate my pain away.

I worked on pushing myself back a bit. Whimpered as I lifted my legs up onto the bed, but didn’t barf. I was calling that a win.

I was trying to get under the covers when Myra appeared again. She pushed the covers clear, baring sheets that were light blue with tiny pink flowers on them. Myra might come across as stern or unemotional to most people, but I was pretty sure she was the softest heart out of all of us Reeds.

Especially in private. I wouldn’t be surprised if the nightgown I was wearing was frilly with lace and bows.

“Delaney? Are you listening? Come on, honey. If you don’t take these pills, I’m going to drive you back to the hospital.”

“No,” I said. “No hospital. I can take the pills.”

She handed me a cup of water. “Open your mouth.”

I did, not even complaining that she was treating me like a child.

She dropped two pills in my mouth and I drank enough water to wash them down and then drank a little more, hoping that it would settle my stomach.

“Just lean back. Easy.” She guided me down to the cool sheets and soft pillow, and the relief of being horizontal was immense. I shut my eyes, listening to her move around the small room.

“My?” I asked.

She hummed from the far corner of the room. There wasn’t a bathroom attached to this room, so I wasn’t sure what she was doing there.

“I think Dan was angry.”

She sniffed. “Yeah?”

“I’ve seen him that angry before. Red face. Shaky hands. Yelling.”

The bed dipped as she sat down beside me. “Yeah. So have I.” Her hand was at my forehead again, even though I was pretty sure I didn’t have a fever.

“He’s never shot anyone when he was that angry. Not once.”

“I know.”

“Why did he do it this time?”

“I don’t know, Delaney. You said he was mad about the contest.” Her fingers stroked my head, smoothed my hair.

The pain meds crept out over my muscles, easing. The soft sheets, soft bed, and soft blankets worked their own unique magic on me.

“Sleep.” She sounded a hundred miles away. “And no sneaking out this time.”

I finally figured out the noise she had been making. She was booby-trapping the room so she’d hear me if I got up. The window was over in that corner. She was probably setting it up so I’d have to push a wind chime out of the way if I tried to open it.

“Paranoid,” I mumbled.