The steady beep-beep of medical equipment finally sinks into my brain and pulls me back to the waking world in a nauseating sweep. Getting my eyes open is another trick entirely although I don’t really want to open them anyway. My breathing is picking up by the second, reaching near panic very quickly. I need to wake up and find Milo. He’s the only thing that will calm me down. My eyes feel like they have lead weights on them. An image from a Jack the Ripper movie I once saw assaults me, reminding me of how people used to put coins on the dead’s eyes to pay the ferryman on their way to Hell. My eyes flutter open immediately, no coins falling away like I feared. Milo’s concerned face and the antiseptic walls of a hospital greet me.
“Hey, you finally decided to wake up,” Milo says.
“You brought me to the hospital?” I gasp as I sit up. I hate hospitals. An irrational desire to have Lance by my side grips me fiercely. He’s been there every other time I’ve been hurt. He knows how to keep me calm, to stop the panic. Thinking about him only adds to my pain, but I can’t help wish he were here with me now. My breathing rapidly starts climbing to hyperventilation. My head starts swimming, and I have to grab the side of the bed to keep from tipping over drunkenly. One thing I do notice is that my leg feels much, much better. The bandage indicating a needle prick on my arm might have something to do with that.
“Libby, calm down. Your ankle was dangling like a loose tooth. What else was I supposed to do?” Milo pulls his chair close to my bed and brushes my hair back from my face in slow, soothing motions. Every stroke takes my panic down a notch. “You slept through the worst part, at least. Your leg has already been X-rayed and the bones set back in place. We’re just waiting on the doctor to start putting on your cast.”
My vision begins to clear as I tap my Naturalism and force my breathing to slow. I lock my gaze on Milo to stave off another wave of panic, forcing away thoughts of Lance. It takes me a moment to focus enough to process what Milo just said. “A cast? Manuel must have died laughing about this.”
Milo grins. “Just a little.”
“He’s hopeless,” I mumble through my clenched jaw.
“Funny,” Milo says with a laugh, “that’s exactly what he said about you.”
Maybe it’s the drugs, or Milo’s ability to somewhat distract me, but I laugh too. Another broken bone. What does that make now, thirteen? Unlucky thirteen, that would definitely make sense. My morphine-induced laughter subsides by the time the door pushes open. I’m shocked to find a familiar face when it opens all the way.
“Doctor Layton?”
“Good afternoon, Libby. It’s always nice to see you, though you do know you can come say hello without breaking a bone first, don’t you?” he says. His words are as cheerful as they’ve ever been. I’m immediately suspicious. Everyone else is at least a little nervous around me. What exactly did he give me? My eyes narrow as I scour him for a clue. He notices my reaction and sighs. “Sorry, Libby. I’ll admit that when they told me you were here I was nervous, but seeing you laid out unconscious, it sorts of takes away the ‘you’re going to kill everyone’ vibe. You’re the same girl I’ve treated a dozen times before.”
There is no deception in what he’s saying. I manage to relax a little more. Maybe this will work on the kids at school, too. It’s hard to be afraid of the gimpy loser kid hobbling around on crutches. “Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Layton. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else trying to fix me up.” Seriously. Hospitals freak me out bad enough without having to go through it with a stranger.
“Nobody knows your bones better than I do, that’s for sure.” He sits down on his stool and starts the long process of casting my foot. After the first few layers are in place, he says, “You’ll have to keep this on for two or three weeks, but it looks like it should heal up fine.”
“Two or three weeks?” Milo asks. “That doesn’t seem like very long.”
“For a normal person, it wouldn’t be, but for Libby it’s more than enough time. Her Strength makes her heal faster than others,” he explains.
“Is that usually how it works?” Milo asks.
Dr. Layton nods. “To some degree. Everyone with Strength heals slightly faster than those without it, but Libby has always astounded me. The first time her dad brought her in, she had fallen out of a tree and broken her wrist. I set it and cast it, and scheduled for her to come back in three weeks to see how she was doing. Imagine my surprise when the X-ray showed the break was completely healed. Normally, Strength speeds up recovery by a couple of days at the most. Not weeks.”
One more thing to betray me as a freak. I’m the only one who thinks so, apparently.
Milo has a different opinion. “That’s awesome.”
“Very,” Dr. Layton agrees.
Well, at least they’re enjoying themselves. Their reactions do make me smile, though, even if my hands are still shaking. Milo quizzes Dr. Layton about the other weird things my body can do, like withstand more extreme temperatures than others, take more damage before breaking down, go without food or water for longer, and a few other bizarre qualities that only I seem to possess. He keeps it up the entire time Dr. Layton is wrapping me in plaster. I tune them out after a while and try to think about nothing at all until this experience is over. Milo’s fingers constantly stroking my arm make that pretty much impossible.
Thinking about him isn’t bad, either.
Hours later, Milo carries me into my motel room and gently places me on the bed. After giving me a couple more pain pills, he lies down next to me. “How are you feeling?”
“About my leg, or everything else?”
“About all of it.”
“My leg is feeling mildly better, and I don’t know what to think about my mom. Confronting her didn’t go like I thought it would,” I say.
Milo motions toward my foot with a half-smile. “Obviously not.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I mean. Actually, I figured I would probably get hurt. What I meant was what she said. She really thought me and my dad would make it through the Serqet alive. She wasn’t trying to kill me, not that time at least. It doesn’t really change anything, now, I guess, but…it makes me feel a little better. Is that stupid?”
“No, of course not, Libby. Your mom’s never going to win any parenting awards, but at least you know she did love you in her own way,” Milo says.
“Just not enough.”
“But I do,” Milo says seriously. “I love you very much, and I’ve been dying you tell you that.”
My racing heart puddles in my chest and sends waves of heat barreling through my veins. “I love you too, Milo. I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you in a better way. Only my mom could screw something like that up for me.”
“I don’t care what made you say it. I’m just glad you did.” His fingers come up to my face and trace along my cheekbone and jaw. “Actually, I think it’s pretty hot that you told me you loved me while you were trying to save my life.”
“But I didn’t even do it,” I complain. “You saved yourself and all I managed to do was break my ankle.”
His expression turns conniving. “That’s true,” he says, “I did save my own life. That was supposed to be your job, Libby Sparks. I think you owe me one, now.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Let me stay with you for a few days.”
More than a little surprised, I’m not sure what to say. I put aside all my doubts when I was faced with my mom’s questions, but that doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared completely. “Milo,” I begin.
“I never got to finish what I started to say at the dance,” he interrupts.
That’s true. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say that I didn’t want you to get back together with your ex-boyfriend because I want that position for myself,” Milo says, “and before you say anything, I’m only asking to stay because I want to take care of you. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I’ll even sl
eep on the floor.”
“Milo…” I can’t make him sleep on the floor.
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
The honest need in his voice is so hard to resist. “But what about your parents? Even they will notice if you just stop coming home all together.”
“That’s debatable,” Milo says.
“And what about Celia? She spends almost every afternoon with us. Your parents will definitely notice when she doesn’t come home. It just won’t work,” I say.
Milo slides his arm under my head and moves closer to me. “But if I could make it work, you’d let me stay?”
“That’s not what I meant, Milo.”
“You want me to stay. Admit it,” he says, his fingers tracing the curves of my jaw, my ear, my shoulder. Every stroke steals a little more of my concern that this may be a very bad idea. He could get hurt because of me. “Admit it,” he says again.
“Yes, I want you to stay,” I say weakly. My eyes are still closed, letting me linger in the moment a little longer. “But that’s why you can’t. Milo, if you get any closer to me you may just end up like my dad. My relationship track record isn’t very good. I’m not meant for…for anything good.”
Rolling onto his elbow, Milo jostles my leg painfully. I hiss at the pain too sharp for the narcotics I’m on. Milo apologizes immediately, his hand landing lightly on my thigh in an effort to stabilize me. Or maybe he is still trying to convince me, because the way his fingers trail up my jeans to my hip certainly aren’t doing anything to drive me away from him. My own fingers start drawing twisting paths over his chest without my permission. Not good, but I don’t pull my hand away. Milo pulls in closer. Maybe I should have checked the side effects of these painkillers more carefully.
“Libby,” Milo begins. The rough quality of his voice brings heat to my belly. “Libby, what happened today, it scared me. A lot. I know I joke with you about being responsible for saving my life, but you’re not invincible. I never thought you were, but watching your mom come after you, I really saw for the first time what danger you’re in. I don’t want to leave your side.”
Hot desire quickly mellows into loving warmth. “Milo, if you think I’m fallible, then you’re at even more risk. Just look at today. My mom had me trapped, but she went after you to hurt me even worse. If I weren’t so selfish, I would make you stay as far away from me as possible. You can’t count on catching a lucky break every time. The more you’re with me, the more danger you’re in.”
Milo’s concern twists into bitterness. “Libby, you have no idea how much danger I’m in, but that’s not the point. With your ankle broken, you need me here. Strength, Speed, Vision, how much can they really help when you can’t even get off the bed by yourself? I won’t leave you helpless.”
“I’m not helpless,” I argue.
“Then get up and walk across the room.”
I scowl at him and push up to my elbows. The movement makes my leg twinge, but I can handle it. I sit up all the way and drop my left foot to the floor. That was the easy part. Biting the inside of my cheek I take a deep breath and slide my right foot to the side. A strangled scream catches in my throat, choking me with pain. Milo’s hands are on me at once, pushing me down to the pillow and settling my legs back in place. Gentle fingertips sweep across my tear-streaked face.
“You need me to stay, Libby,” he whispers. “I need you to let me stay. Please.”
Spirits help me, I can’t do this. I can’t even move. It hurts so badly. I can’t face it without Milo, but I know this might not be a temporary thing. Once I agree to him staying, I don’t know if I’ll be able to give him up. I need him. I need him desperately in so many ways. There isn’t anyone else. He is the only person in this world I can turn to for help. Pain, love, narcotics, something smothers my objections, the warnings, everything but my desire never to be away from Milo.
“Okay,” I whisper, “but just until I can get around on my own.”
His arms wrapped around me painfully. “Thank you, Libby. I promise I’ll keep you safe. I love you.”
Fear and overwhelming joy wrap themselves around my heart, begging to take up permanent residence. I want to let them, but I have to ask. “You really love me?”
“Of course I do, I just didn’t know how to tell you,” he says. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you felt for sure. I wasn’t even sure if you wanted to think about a relationship right now. I know what Lance did. That’s not easy to get over. I also know how much you’re trying to deal with and figure out right now. A boyfriend might not fit into your plans.”
Not that his admission really changes my earlier fears, but realizing that his holding off and pulling away when I thought we were getting closer was him trying to help me does explain a lot. I smile and wind my fingers with his. “It might be a mistake, but I’d like to try and fit a boyfriend into my screwed-up life if you really want me.”
“I really do, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Then…I think I should take Celia’s advice…”
My pulse jumps, and combined with the medication, my head starts swimming. I’m afraid I might pass out. If I faint, I’ll never forgive myself.
“And kiss you.”
My racing pulse suddenly slows. Everything slows as Milo’s hands gently cup my face. Delicate pressure pulls me toward him and I give up on thinking, breathing, speaking, everything, and close my eyes. He strokes my cheek once and kisses me. My whole world rearranges itself. The throbbing pain is replaced by the feel of Milo’s heartbeat under my fingertips. Every care disappears as his breath pulses against my skin. For one moment, I am just a girl being kissed by the guy she loves.
Too quickly his lips leave mine. Milo’s hand trails down my skin as he pulls back. The tension that has been haunting him all day evaporates. I would be content to lie next to him for the rest of the day, but an innocent movement of his hand reminds me of something I can’t ignore. After what Mr. Walters said last night, this is one thing I need to know. Something I have to know. If Milo is really willing to throw in with me, I think I need to know what I’m getting into as much as he does. Snaking my hand down to his, I move as if to take his hand. My fingertips reach the palm of his hand and stop. Even still, his hand curls around mine.
“Milo,” I say, hearing the tremor in my voice that I feared would be there.
“Hmm?”
I take a deep breath and slide my hand back up his arm, just enough that I push back his sleeve and leave my fingers touching his marred diktats. His body stiffens immediately. I regret losing his calmness, but I have to keep going. “Milo, what’s a Cipher?”
“You mean like something to unlock a code?” he asks casually.
“Mr. Walters called you Cipher. What does that mean?”
His head shakes back and forth. “It’s just a nickname he gave me when we first met.”
“When was that? I didn’t think you knew him before we met,” I say.
“He was my history teacher when I first moved here. I have him again this year,” Milo says. I can feel his pulse running like mad beneath my fingers.
“Why did he call you Cipher?”
“Because he knows.” The sudden quiver in his voice scares me.
Wrapping my whole hand around his wrist I pull it up so we can both see it. “It has something to do with your diktats, doesn’t it? There’s something wrong with them. They aren’t straight and perfect like they’re supposed to be.”
“Cipher means zero, nothingness,” Milo says quietly.
He says it like it’s an answer to my question, but I don’t understand. “What does that have to do with your diktats? Why don’t they look like they should?”
Milo takes one slow breath, and says, “Because they aren’t real.”
Chapter 24
Shallow Dreams