Page 43 of Pretty Savage: Defy

One last wave.

I leave him there.

Chapter ten

Five Days Until Bonding

Laurel

Walking out of Shady Grove is like living life in reverse. There’s the media room with its laugh-track-fueled sitcoms, followed by the nurse’s station, then the front door looming ahead.

I grieve as I go for the loss of the father I thought I knew, but also for the dream of running away with Carrson. Of him and me, hand in hand, going somewhere new. A place The Order can’t reach.

Dad ran, and his past still found him.

Maybe Carrson’s right. The Order’s dominion reaches farther than any road we could take.

The thought is beyond depressing.

I lengthen my stride to catch up with Carr, who has walked ahead. Behind us, a nurse stops Carrson and guides him to the desk so he can sign us out of the visitor logbook.

“This is why the healing medicine works on me, isn’t it?” I ask Carr, keeping my voice low. “Or at least why it partially worked.”

Carr doesn’t slow, but he answers. “Because you carry Order blood, yes.”

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“You used the medicine to test me.” I can’t keep the accusation from my voice.

He sends me a sideways glance. “I had a hypothesis. You, of all people, should appreciate the value of gathering evidence.”

I gape at him. “You experimented on me while I was unconscious.”

“I healed injuries you volunteered to receive.”

The arrogance of that answer sends heat burning up my neck and into my face.

“I have a hypothesis too,” I say, not bothering to hide the bite in my tone.

Carr lifts his chin. “Which is?”

I glance back. Carrson still has his head bowed over a clipboard.

“I don’t think you were in the Middle East for all these past months. I think you were here in rehab, with Thomson’s dad.” I lower my voice even more. “I think you’re an alcoholic. Just like my dad.”

Carr’s heel strikes the polished floor harder on his next step.

“I’m nothing like your father.”

“Then why did the nurse recognize you? How did she know Thom’s name? Why did I overhear the two of you talking about sponsors?” I move closer so Carrson won’t hear. “That’s recovery talk. Alcoholics Anonymous.”

I don’t mention how I know that from all the times I begged my dad to go. The pamphlets I brought home that only I ended up reading.

“Did you tell Carrson?” I ask.

“No.” Carr glares at me as though I’m the one invading his privacy. As if he has the right to be offended. “And it should stay that way. It doesn’t concern him.”