Page 39 of Whispers of Wisteria

“Oh,” was Finn’s understanding reply. “That. That’s her business; you need to butt out.”

Bryce headed for the car again, but when Finn spoke, he froze. “You knew?” he asked, turning back to the onmyoji.

My face grew warm at the realization. But I couldn’t reply yet. I was still gritting my teeth as the sharp pain finally began to ebb away and the dizziness receded.

“She’s like this every time,” Finn answered.

“And—” Bryce began, inpatient. “What did Trinity say?”

“It’s normal,” Finn replied, crossing his arms. “Bianca says it’s not that bad, so she rests around the house for a few days. Just let it be.”

“She’s fainted!” Bryce snapped. “In what world is that normal?”

“Well…” Finn wavered, and he looked back at me. My heart began to race. I knew that look—he was recalculating. “That’s never happened before—”

“I’m fine!” I snapped, pushing against Bryce’s chest. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

Finn’s jaw set and he addressed Bryce. “There’s no reason to be dramatic. She can talk to Trinity later.”

“Sure,” I replied flippantly. In about a million years. I already knew what she’d say, and it was not happening.

I wouldnotget an exam.

“Bianca.” Bryce was looking down at me. “You’ll talk to her?”

“Yeah, whatever.” I squirmed in his arms once more. “Now put me down. I feel better.”

Finn stepped forward. “She said to put her down.”

Bryce glanced between us, expression wavering, before he finally set me back on my feet. “Fine,” he was saying as the blood began to rush to my head. “Just so long as—”

And that was the last thing I remembered before my legs gave out.

The cold airblew against my face, at odds with the too-warm blanket that seemed to cover every inch of me. I was jostled against a rigid body, and white and red flickered behind my closed eyelids.

A heavy breath brushed against my face, and I opened my eyes to glimpse a telltale sliding glass doorway. The crimson ‘Emergency Room’ letters flashed across my vision.

No!

Bryce must have felt me wake because his grip on me tightened.

I was frozen in terror as he strolled to the glass-walled check-in desk and its world-weary attendant. She looked at us, lowered her lipstick-stained coffee cup onto coffee-rimmed Post-it notes, and turned to the computer.

“Mr. Dubois?” She sounded mildly surprised. “How can I help you today?”

There was no way I could speak, and I buried my face into Bryce’s shirt as he continued to take control. I didn’t even care that the hospital people knew his name.

“She fainted,” he said.

The clerk pulled her attention from the computer, looking me over. “Any chest pain?”

She was asking me. I shook my head, squeezed my eyes shut, and pressed my face against Bryce. I was making a scene, and I must look pathetic, but I couldn’t help it.

I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t. Didn’t.

“Okay,” she said. “It won’t be a long wait.”

The two discussed check-in information, with Bryce sounding far calmer and more collected than I expected. It took a moment for me to realize that he’d gotten my birthday correct.