“It was when I realized I’d trusted you with my daughter, you fucking monster,” Hazard said. “I left her in the van with you. Do you remember? You’d come to me with a story about a phone call, how I’d missed our appointment, and I believed you. I thought the Keeper of Bees had tried to lure you into a trap, and we rushed over to my office. I left Evie with you in the van. When I realized, later, who you really were, that’s when I decided.” He took a shaky breath. “And just for the fucking record, you fucking imbecile, I’m not alone; I have a fiancé.”

“Very romantic,” Somers muttered as he patted down Mitchell.

“Thank you,” Hazard said. The world had gotten squiggly and dark. “John, make sure—oh.” Hazard blinked, trying to clear his vision. “Shit.”

The last thing he heard was Somers’s panicked: “Ree?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

JULY 7

SUNDAY

2:38 PM

SOMERS HAD DECIDED THAT, if he got reincarnated as an engineer, he was going to spend his next lifetime designing a hospital chair that didn’t pinch the spinal column or dig right into the tender spot between his shoulder blades. He shifted on the chair again, adjusting his book on his chest, and wondered about having Cora bring up some pillows. Like, a million of them.

“You can go home,” Hazard said muzzily.

“I’m all right.”

“You should go home. Get a shower. Sleep in our bed.”

“Are you kidding? We’ve spent enough on hospital bills that I should own a private wing of this place. I’m going to get my money’s worth.”

“You’ve barely slept in the last week.”

“I caught a couple of hours when you were in surgery.”

“Liar.”

“And I did take a shower, for your information.”

Hazard, even very doped up, could still deliver a killer stare.

Somers pulled up the collar of his tee shirt and took a deep breath and winced. “Ok, I mean, I soaped up some paper towels and washed under my arms.”

Hazard’s head was lolling on the pillow. His eyes kept drifting toward the TV, where reruns of General Hospital were showing. Once he had started crying. That was during the episode when Lucas had woken up from a coma, and Hazard had tried to explain through his tears why it was so wonderful. And every once in a while, he got this goofy, very un-Emery Hazard grin, and described something obscene he wanted to do to Somers—often right then, and very reluctant to take no for an answer.

“I want you to go home,” Hazard said. “I want you to be happy. Oh my God, John, I want you to be so happy. I want you to be so happy that . . . that . . . that you’re like just beautiful and smiling and like the sun. And your hair. Your new hair is pretty. I liked your old hair, but I want to touch your new hair.”

Somers pressed him back into the bed before he could climb out of it. “For my next birthday, I only want one thing: I would like them to pump you full of whatever the hell you’re on, and then we’re going to watch reality TV all day. The really crazy shows. The ones with toddlers in beauty pageants. That kind of stuff.”