Miracle (boyxboy)

Chapter Twelve

"I'm supposed to give you this before you get discharged." Dr. Sarias tossed the fancy smartwatch into my lap, and I reached for it in wonder.

"Ezra got it back from Tyler?"

He sighed. "So it would appear."

I laid it against my wrist and strapped it on, watching the heartbeat icon come to life. The S.O.S. button was back too, though it seemed unnecessary. "He isn't really listening through this when I talk to him, is he? He's just doing that prayer thing where he hears what I'm thinking."

The doctor grunted.

"Why didn't he just tell me that, instead of saying I had to push the button?"

A hard glare. "Why do you think?"

'Cause he wasn't supposed to tell me what he is. I winced guiltily. "It does do something else, though, doesn't it? Something more than reading my pulse."

"It has GPS," Dr. Sapias answered. "If that's what you mean."

"More than that." I wanted to know how he'd known about the dog, that one time. "Is it a special kind of GPS? Like, with real-time satellite coverage or something?"

His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"I'm right?"

The impressed expression dissolved into scoffing, and I realized he'd been sarcastic. "No."

"Is it another one of those things you can't tell me?"

"Just wear the damn thing, it gives him peace of mind. If it means he's not sneaking down here constantly to check on you, it's worth it."

I looked down at the watch. Ezra, can you hear me?

After a moment, the watch thumped once.

Are you at home right now? Another thump.

Are you okay? You're not in any trouble because of me, right? Thump.

Maybe this thing would come in handy after all.

"Now," Dr. Sarias said, "your mother is down at the front desk signing your release papers. I'm going to escort you to the curb," he indicated the wheelchair he'd brought, "and from there you're on your own. Remember what I said, stay away from human males. Get in the car, go home, stay inside. Don't make Ez risk his ass again to save yours, got it? And for God's sake don't go flapping your mouth about what he's told you."

"No one would believe me even if I did," I pointed out, a little offended. As if I would betray the guy who'd saved my life. Twice.

"You'd better hope they don't. Get in the chair."

He didn't offer to help me, so with my foot swollen and my knee and thigh bandaged, it took a bunch of awkward hopping and flopping to transfer myself from the hospital bed to the wheelchair. It also hurt quite a lot, because even after three days my chest ached something awful. No sooner had my butt hit the seat than Dr. Sarias was wheeling me out into the hall, as if he couldn't wait to be rid of me.

We passed a bearded nurse on our way to the elevator, who paused and turned around after we passed. "Can I help you out with that patient, doc?"

"No thanks," Dr. Sarias replied briskly, wheeling me onto the elevator and keeping my back to the guy. But, in the reflection of the elevator's dull metal wall, I could see that he had turned around and was staring the nurse down as the doors closed.

I pressed my lips together uncomfortably. This pheromone thing was like a bad-guy lure. Only I wouldn't know if they were bad guys, like Tyler, or good ones, like Pete, probably until it was too late. And according to Dr. Sarias, they were all one and the same. How was a person supposed to function like this?