The sheets were very white and scratchy and the blankets too thin. My toes were cold, and I was lying on my side. I wiggled to try to pull my feet up and get them warm.

“Mercy?” Adam said.

“We need to get new blankets,” I told him, and he laughed.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

I took a deep breath and realized that I really was awake because it hurt. The sun was shining, the AC was on too high, and I was in a hospital bed.

Adam leaned forward and kissed me. Then I kissed him back. With interest. He laughed and rested his forehead on mine, and I felt his whole body go limp.

“You are so stoned, baby,” he said.

“Am I fried?” I asked.

“What?” He rolled his head a little so he could see my face.

“Burned like a crispy steak,” I clarified.

“No. Not as bad as it could have been.” He hesitated. “Not as bad as it was, I think, is a better answer. The cheek scar will have a companion on your forearm, and I’m afraid the shotgun-pellet scars have some company. Might be a while before you are happy about walking on your left foot, but that was just blisters, and Samuel says it should heal with no scarring.”

“No modeling contract,” I said mournfully.

“Not in your future, no,” he said, and his dimple flirted with me. “You’ll have to make do with me.”

“Coyote said I was dying,” I told him. “And Christy wanted me to.”

“Coyote, eh?” He gave me an odd smile. “I went to grab some coffee that first night you were here, and when I got back, he was sitting on the edge of your bed. As a coyote.” He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “Samuel said the first X-rays showed that you’d broken your neck. He … wasn’t optimistic. But after Coyote had his visit, things got better. As for Christy—” His skin next to mine flushed, and his eyes lightened to amber for just a moment. His voice was calm, though. “Christy has been banned from the hospital. She decided to stay at Auriele’s until she figures out whether she is going to move back to Eugene or job search over here. They managed to get the blue off her skin, but she had to dye her hair black. You are not her favorite person.”

“Auriele’s okay?” I asked, suddenly anxious.

“Shh,” he said. “Auriele is a werewolf. She was down for a couple of days, but, as of yesterday, she’s fine.”

The muzzy feeling was retreating. “How long have I been out?”

“Three days,” he said. “And you’ve only been mostly out. Samuel said you wouldn’t remember much of it, though. He also said that they’d probably let you out tomorrow morning. Since there are now no signs of a broken neck.”

“Joel?”