Page 80 of Edge

He stopped what he was doing and turned to face me. “I’m going to ignore that because I know Phoenix told you to stop apologizing, but I would like to make a suggestion.”

“Suggest away.”

“You seem to be carrying a lot of guilt. I’ve seen what that can do to people when it’s not dealt with. My wife is a licensed clinical therapist. If you want help to process all of this, give her a call. Most of us have been in her office at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

He laughed. “I live with her, so I don’t have to go to her office. Actually, neither do you. She’ll come to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” And I would. Considering everything I’d been through, I probably needed therapy.

When Duke and Irene returned from the cafeteria, there was nothing left to do but wait, and it felt like the time passed at a snail’s pace. Finally, when it was almost eleven o’clock, Carbon announced it was time to leave.

“It’s been eighty-four years,” I said in an old lady voice.

Irene laughed while Duke and Carbon had matching looks of confusion.

“It’s from a movie,” I explained. “It’s not important. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, I was able to get out of bed and into the wheelchair with little assistance.

“Take it easy, and let them help you,” Irene said. “You don’t want to overdo it.”

“I know, but I’m so ready to get out of here, and I’m dying to see Edge.” I realized what I said immediately and slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that was a poor choice of words.”

Irene chuckled. “We know what you meant.”

I was almost bursting with excitement as Duke and Carbon pushed our wheelchairs down the hall.

“How much would I have to pay you to get you to run?”

Carbon laughed. “We’re trying to not draw attention to ourselves, remember?”

“I never would’ve pegged you for a rule follower.”

“No one pegs me. Ever.”

“Oh,” I groaned and crossed my arms over my stomach. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“You started it,” Irene pointed out.

We came to a stop in front of a sketchy looking elevator. “This doesn’t seem safe.”

“It’s fine,” Carbon assured me. “I used this elevator when I took your stuff down to the car.”

“Just because you didn’t get hurt doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

“Do you have a fear of elevators?”

“No, I have a fear of falling elevators, but only when I think about it. And, well, I thought about it.”

Irene leaned closer to me and whispered, “I think the pain pills have a different effect on you than the IV medicine.”

“I think you might be right,” I whispered back. “I feel a little loopy.”

“You’re acting a little loopy.”

Between Irene and the pain pills, I didn’t realize we’d gotten on and off the elevator until we were rolling down the basement hallway. “I don’t think I like it down here. It feels creepy.”