The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(25)

“He’s all right?”

“His head wound was mostly superficial. He’s got a mild concussion but nothing else, so he should be fine to get to work. Do me a favor and ask him if he intends to stick around, and if so, let him know about our meeting? It’s at noon.”

I smirked at him, crossing my arms. “And when was I going to hear about this meeting?”

“Just now,” he replied tartly, a smile on his lips. “Now go—I know you’re dying to see your brother.”

“Hey, I’m also dying to see you.” I paused, considering my phrasing. “And you know, no more using the word ‘dying.’ It’s beginning to sound too close to my daily life.”

Viggo sighed and then reached out and tugged me close, gently maneuvering me until I was sitting on his knee. He rested his forehead against mine, lacing our fingers together. “How bad?” he asked, his breath caressing my face.

I exhaled and closed my eyes, resisting the urge to just curl up against him and fall asleep. “Bad,” I replied honestly, and his response was to wrap his arms around me, holding me close. “I’m so glad you came for me. Did I thank you for that?”

“No, and I never get tired of hearing it. By the way, am I winning yet?”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. “I thought we weren’t playing that game anymore.”

“We’re not, but let’s just call it an oldie but a goody.”

“Oh, just like you,” I teased, and a deep rumbling laugh burst from his chest as he cradled me closer, resting his chin on my head.

“Just like me,” he agreed. He held me like that for a few seconds longer, and then pulled back. “Did that help?”

“A little,” I admitted, taking just a moment longer to soak up his love and support. Then I stood. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I said.

He nodded, and I felt his eyes watching me as I turned and walked down the hallway, moving toward the first bedroom. It was partially open, and I pushed through, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The curtains were drawn, perhaps to keep the patients from having to stare into the sun, and I blinked at the change.

Dr. Tierney was hunched over by one of the walls, and when she turned, I realized she was examining Owen, who sat in a chair with his back to the wall. His eyes widened when he saw me, and then he looked away.

“Hey, Violet,” Dr. Tierney said. “Your brother’s still not awake yet, but—”

“That’s okay, Doc,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “Viggo filled me in. But why did he go into shock?” I moved over to the bed where Tim was lying, noting the dark bruises mottling his face and arms. “Also, is that much bruising okay?”

Dr. Tierney sighed and moved up next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “In terms of blood loss, it’s negligible, but I did give him a blood patch, just in case. And as for going into shock… Well, to be honest, I don’t know. Best guess, it’s probably a reaction to the extreme pain he must have experienced due to the side effects of Dr. Jenks’ experimentation. Owen mentioned he was close to a hand grenade going off—much closer than you two. The kinetic energy alone, even with a wall in between, must have been agony for him. I’m sure he’ll wake up soon, though. I’ve got him on some mild painkillers.”

I nodded, the worry I had been keeping at bay slipping past my defenses. I hated seeing Tim like that, lying still, in a bed. A small part of me was grateful he hadn’t been able to see me that way—I could only imagine the toll it would’ve taken on him.

Turning, I looked at where Owen still sat in the chair, looking very guilty. His eyes met mine in a flick and then shot away, toward the ground. “Dr. Tierney, is Owen okay to leave?”

I turned my head back to her, and she blinked, her brows drawing together in confusion. “Yes? Why? I don’t recommend any missions until I’m sure his concussion is—”

“Nothing like that,” I assured her. “I just need a minute to talk to him.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, he’s fine, and he is okay to leave the room. Maybe not the camp just yet.”

“Excellent. Owen?” I turned more fully, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest and speak to him like a child.

“Yup.” He stood up and moved over to the door. I followed him into the hall, closing the door behind me.

As we walked past my old bedroom, Owen informed me, “Henrik’s in there at the moment—he’s been moved to start his physical therapy without disturbing Quinn.”

“I see,” I murmured, and reached over and opened the door to the small bathroom across the hall from Dr. Tierney’s room. “Here will do.”

If Owen thought it was odd for us to have this conversation in the bathroom, he didn’t say anything. I moved in, and he followed, closing the door behind us. I didn’t turn to face him just yet, facing the faded blue tiles of the wall just to compose my mind, trying to calm down the turbulent mix of emotions racing through me. There was a lot of anger and mistrust built up in me, making it difficult to view the situation clearly. I decided to start there.

“I’m angry at you,” I announced quietly in the small, slightly echoing confines of our room. “Angry… and hurt… and frankly, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”