With his assistance, she swallowed a few sips of water and wiped away the worst of the blood. When she eased back down on his pillow, she was paler than ever. Dropping the soiled cloth on the bare floor by the doorway, he sat on the edge of the bed beside her knees.

“I’m worried about that head wound. I want to cast more healing spells on you, but fair warning—my healing skills aren’t fancy. They’re going to hurt, but they’re also the quickest way to shore up that concussion and strengthen your ribs. Are you game?”

She closed her eyes again. “Do you have to?”

For the first time she sounded as miserable as she looked, but he hardened his heart against it. He replied flatly, “It’s either that or I take you to the nearest hospital. I don’t have time to babysit someone with a concussion.”

“Okay.” Her lips tightened. “Do it.”

He rested one hand on her shoulder. In spite of his hard words, he hesitated, but he had spoken the truth. He didn’t have time to babysit someone with a concussion, and right now she couldn’t afford to answer any questions that health practitioners at an ER would ask.

So he cast spell after spell, watching as each hammered into her body. At the first one, she flinched and hid her face in the crook of her arm. Then she didn’t move again or make a sound until he stopped.

Was she breathing or holding her breath? He stroked bloody, tangled hair back from her forehead as he scanned her head. Quietly he murmured, “You need more healing, but we’ve hit your limit. Your body won’t absorb any more right now.”

She shifted cautiously. “Thank you. Seriously, Josiah. Thank you for everything.”

The gracious thing to do would be to accept her thanks, but he had never been a gracious man. He set his teeth. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

One corner of her mouth notched up, astonishing him. “I thought I had promise. I thought if I hitched myself to your little red wagon, the sky would be our limit. What happened to us ruling the Eastern Seaboard together?”

He coughed out an angry laugh. “That was before I discovered how high maintenance you are. You had balls, calling me after our last conversation. What makes you think you can hang up on a man and still call him for help? Why was my number the one you dialed?”

“I didn’t have anybody else,” she whispered. “You were the only one I could call.”

Silence fell inside him, deep like a snowfall, as he absorbed that. Then he thought of how crowded her house had been the night of Hell Party.

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You must have a list of friends as long as my arm.”