I obey, feeling bad for challenging her, even though I’m right, slightly weirded out by her good mood, and unnerved by how easily she put me in my place—this woman bewilders me.

“I’m off the IV and the serious pain meds. My mobility is good. I’m eating, drinking, and bathroom-ing exactly as I should be and without help. I’m showing zero signs of infection, and my wounds are, and I quote, ‘healing perfectly.’ Another day or two won’t matter to anyone but me. Besides, being here is all the cost of a mega-luxury hotel without any juicy amenities⁠—”

“If it’s about money, I’ll cover it.”

“No, Grady, it’s not that. Not entirely. Trust me, okay? The doctor said that though she prefers keeping me, I’ll be okay as long as I don’t overexert myself. She went over all the red flags. I’ve already made appointments for follow-ups with my general doctor and my, um, all the necessary doctors. And Ivy’s giving me phone numbers in case I have questions.”

Her speech makes her breathless, like she can’t deliver it with her usual speed, and pains her to try. “So, see? I’m fine.”

My hands claw across my head as I consider her—she’s not fine. “It’s not that simple. The pain alone will be difficult to handle.”

“Look, I’ve been fully adulting since fifteen. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” I say, feeling even more like an ass, if that’s possible. “I just need you to be okay.”

Her smile alights in the sunshine through the window, making me wonder which one is brighter. “Keeping to our policy, I see.”

“Truth. No sense in going back on it now.”

“Then, I have another motivation for leaving early. A selfish one, I’m afraid.” Her face scrunches with reluctance.

“Tell me.”

She groans in a weak slump. “Have you ever been desperate for home?”

“All the fucking time.”

A light smirk edges her lips. “That’s what I want, Grady. Waiting until tomorrow means going home with Cora, in her care. Or her maid’s care. I love Cora, but I don’t want that. I want my bed, my cats, my plants, my things. If I sneak home now, she’ll see I’m fine and don’t need anyone taking care of me.”

“But you do need care. What about Ashe?” A sinking feeling rushes over me—the same feeling I had when Ashe failed to comfort her and later when I watched them leave and found Marina alone. Crying. Where was he then? Where is he now?

Her smile falls, but only for a second before she takes a breath and slowly returns to her feet. My hands go to her arms, bracing her. “Thanks.”

“If you’re leaving, where’s Ashe? Why isn’t he here to⁠—”