Burning, stinging, excruciating pain.
Her eyelids fluttered, but they couldn’t quite open. It took a lot of effort to simply try and open them, so she stopped. Took a breath.
What happened to her? Why did she feel this way?
She couldn’t remember. Which was just as well.
Perhaps she should sleep some more.
Yes, sleep.
That sounded good.
“You’re telling me that not even two goddamn weeks after she gets injured at some club, she gets attacked on your campus? What the hell kind of school is this, Dean Curtis? Why the hell should I allow my granddaughter to continue here if you can’t even guarantee her goddamn safety?”
“Mr. Brown, I understand you’re upset. If we might address the issue in my office, I would be happy to discuss your concerns.”
“No, no, we’ll wait. My daughter’s on her way, and that piece of work, soon-to-be ex-husband of hers is on a flight back from Rhode Island. We should wait for them. The only reason I’m here right now is to see my granddaughter. That’s it. Are you doing everything in your power to wake her up?”
“Sir, I can assure you that Dr. Gregory Kessler is a highly-respected physician throughout the world, let alone California. There is no one better than he is at what he does. Miss Cabot should have died, Mr. Brown. I don’t mean to be frank—”
“No, I appreciate you being frank.”
“She should have died,” Ethan repeated. “If Professor Depogare hadn’t found her when he had, hadn’t brought her to Doctor Kessler, she would be dead. But she’s not. Kessler tells me that she’s out of the woods. All we’re waiting for now is her to wake up. From there, he can get a better read on how to treat her, what to do to improve her condition, and a better estimation for her recovery time. Until then, I can only offer what I’ve told you: she’s stable, she’s alive, and she will get through this.”
Jane heard her grandfather mumble something, but couldn’t make it out. Sleep was pulling at her, and she couldn’t resist.
Rain pitter-pattered against her glass window. It was a nice song to wake up to, as sweet as any sung by birds.
More pain.
Her back.
It was then that she realized she was currently on her stomach.
That was weird. She hated sleeping on her stomach. It hurt her boobs.
A loud groan pierced the air, and she realized that it had come from her.
“Jane?”
A familiar voice. Hesitant. Low. Southern.
She forced her eyes open this time, not quite believing Depogare was there. Why would he be, after everything he said?
Whatever had happened to her must have been serious for him to be …
Where was she?
She whimpered this time and then finally, finally cracked open her eyes. It was too bright, even though the lights were off and the outside was overcast. She groaned and had to close them shut again, but not before catching a glimpse.
This was too much.
She was in so much pain, but just seeing Depogare sitting there, next to her bed made it all worth it. He looked the same way he had in the vivid dream she had of him; his hair was messy and fell in his face, nearly covering his midnight blue eyes. He looked sallow, pale, as though he hadn't eaten, let alone showered. He clearly hadn't shaved in a while; whiskers were coming in and claiming the lower half of his face, making him appear more rugged, older. His clothes were wrinkled and unkempt, completely unlike him. The sight made her smile, despite the pain.
"Jane," he said again, but this time, his voice wavered with uncertainty, with hope. It was like he couldn't quite believe she was awake, that she was okay.
"Say my name again," she mumbled. Her voice came out slurred and she was certain he didn't understand what she had stated in the first place. "I love the way you say my name."
A long pause, and she thought that either he wasn't going to say it or he hadn't understood what she had asked. Then …
"Jane."
It was a low whisper, and it raised the hairs on her body, over every inch of her skin. His eyes were dark and deep and she wanted to jump in, even though she had no idea how to swim this particular stroke. She let her eyes close and her smile deepened, pleased.
It was just one name, one word, but it said more than anything else ever could.
"Am I still dreaming?" she asked. Her voice was scratchy and it hurt to talk, but she couldn't help herself. She found she couldn't help herself a lot around him.
"Still?" he asked. "No, you're not dreaming. You're in my room."
"I know," she said. "I would know your room anywhere." She inhaled deeply. It felt so good to fill her lungs with air. Her fingers flexed; more pain, but the feel of silk surrounding her skin offered her some form of comfort. She let out a breath. "What happened?"
"How are you feeling?" he asked, and she could tell he chose his words carefully, with precision.
"Pain," she answered. "I'm in pain."
The silence hung between them, so thick you could almost see it. Maybe it was just the fact that having her eyes open caused the back of her eyes to sting, her head to pound, and all these nerves she didn't even know she had to scream out loud. She didn't know why he wasn't himself, why he didn't look polished, why he was saying her name instead of getting right down to the point of what he wanted to say.
"I was worried—"
"Miss Cabot," Dean Curtis cut Depogare off as he made his way into the room, "I thought I heard your voice."
"Janie." Her grandfather was the last person to enter, and the relief he felt at seeing her conscious and cohesive was evident in his periwinkle blue eyes. Which was odd, because like Depogare, he wasn't an overtly emotive person.
"Papa."
From the corner of her eye, she watched Depogare take his leave of the room, and she swallowed. The room felt a degree or two colder, and she wished he had stayed. Nobody calmed her down the way he did, not even her grandfather. Her grandfather made her feel safe, made her believe everything was going to be okay. Depogare made her feel complete, even if the world around them was burning to ash.
"Janie, are you okay?"
She forced a smile. "I think so," she replied.
"Would you be up for answering a few questions, Miss Cabot?" Ethan asked. His voice was hesitant, but his eyes were determined, as though her talking about it would help him in some way.
She didn't really want to, especially with Depogare gone, but she would. Better now than later.
"Janie, you don't have to. If you need more time, you can take it." Her grandfather was worried about her, and he was being protective. She appreciated it more than she could ever put into words.
"I'll be fine, Papa," she assured him. He took a seat next to her—in Depogare's chair, to be exact—and stared hard at Ethan, ready to pounce in case the dean overstepped his bounds or pushed her too hard. She smiled to herself.
"Sorry to rush you," Ethan started off, shutting the door behind him. Probably so no one would overhear their conversation. "However, from what Professor Depogare has told me regarding your attack, I believe it's necessary to act swiftly. Before I tell you my beliefs, why don't we start out with what you remember? I don't want to cloud your judgment."
One of the reasons everyone loved Ethan was this uncanny way of making everybody he came in contact with feel special. When someone spoke, he listened. When he asked a question, nothing else mattered. The way he looked at Jane, the way his voice was soft but direct, respectful even, made her want to tell him as much as she possibly could.
“I left Professor Depogare’s,” she began, then realized she should probably explain. Not necessarily for Ethan, but for her grandfather. She didn’t need him questioning Depogare’s intentions with her. "We had just finished some training and I was heading back to my room. I don't remember seeing anyone out there. I was walking across the field ... It was dark because of break." AckPec tried to do its part conserving energy, and on breaks
or holidays, wouldn't turn on the field lights, even if it got dark. There weren't many people at school during those times anyway, and those that were, were pretty good at being in their room before the sun set. "I don't even remember hearing anything either. I remember a growl. Not loud, but loud enough that I could hear. I'm not sure if there was anyone around ..." She paused, her head hurting. "But I definitely heard footsteps. Or paws. Or whatever. Like it was chasing me, even though I have no idea why. Then there was an abrupt stop, and then pain. So much pain. I felt the nails in my back ..." She shuddered, just thinking about it.
"I think we're done for today," her grandfather interjected, placing a hand on Jane's back.
Ethan nodded his head once. "I agree," he said. "Thank you so much for your cooperation, Miss Cabot. You've been extremely helpful."
She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. He turned to go, but before he left, she stopped him. "Dean Curtis," she said, as firmly as she could muster. He stopped and looked back at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what information do you have about the attack?"
Ethan seemed a tad surprised at her curiosity, and perhaps it was a little morbid, seeking answers so soon after waking up, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know who, or what, had done this to her. And if it could have been prevented. Was she targeted? Or was she in the wrong place at the wrong time?
“All I know for certain,” Ethan said, after another moment, “is that whatever attacked you left paw prints. Four legs. Until we get more information, I can’t tell you anything more. I’m sorry.”
Jane said nothing but nodded once. She didn’t watch as Ethan closed the door.
Where did Depogare go? a voice asked. Is he coming back?
Probably not, with her grandfather there, watching over her like a hawk. She wondered if he felt any guilt, if he blamed himself for her attack. She hoped he didn’t. It wasn’t his fault she left when she had. It wasn’t his fault he let her go.
Suddenly, she was tired and sad, and didn’t want to put effort into staying conscious anymore. Her eyes teared up of their own accord, and she had to look out the window in hopes that her grandfather wouldn’t notice.
“Papa,” she told him, her voice strained so it didn’t come out cracked or too emotive, “I think I’m going to take a nap now.”
“You do that, Janie,” he murmured, patting her hand. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Your parents should be here, too. Don’t worry about anything. I’m here for you, baby doll.”
And that made her smile, so it was easier to fall asleep than she expected.
13
The first time Sophie visited Jane, she was sleeping. As such, she returned to her dorm and slept. When she woke, she showered, dressed, and decided to try again. She ran into Will, and without saying anything to each other, the two headed over to the Aqua Tower together.
It was weird, walking side by side without holding hands. Sophie wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it, but she understood they were back at school, which meant they couldn’t do anything they had done at the cabin. Which wasn’t fair, because they had been called back too early. Christmas had come and gone, and New Year’s was right around the corner. Perhaps she would try and find a way to ensure Will was her kiss at midnight.
Being back at school also reminded her that she needed to break up with Jason. And soon. He was at the docks when she arrived on Catalina, and gave her a kiss hello, claiming he missed her and was happy to see her. Certainly, he knew why she came back early, but he wasn’t clear on the details either about what happened to Jane. Sophie could feel Will seething next to her as his hazel eyes took in every move, every breath, Jason inhaled and exhaled, but there was nothing Sophie could do. She wasn’t going to break up with him right this second. She didn’t intend for him to be this affectionate either, and tried to curb it as best as she could without making it obvious that she wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know her feelings had changed.
If anything, it was Will’s.
And, of course, hers.
Sophie knew she had to do it, but Jane was the priority. She would do it once everything was sorted out with Jane.
“I can smell him on you,” Will murmured as they took the elevator up to Depogare’s flat, where the Aqua Professor lived by himself. His voice was low, gravelly, and Sophie felt herself shudder at the sound of it. He was good at making her feel like a fool.
“We’re meeting up tonight,” she told him in the same soft voice. She couldn’t even risk looking at him. “I’m planning to break up with him then.”
Will nodded once, but he still didn’t seem happy. Sophie couldn’t blame him, either. She felt like she had gotten into an overwhelming mess, and she wanted to fix it before she was submerged underwater with no way of catching her breath.
When the doors slid open, Will brushed the back of her hand with his, and Sophie got tingly. She smiled to herself, a blush crawling over her pale skin, and her heart knocked some sense into her. While it wasn’t Jason’s fault that her feelings had changed, it wasn’t fair for her to lead him on. And while Jane was important, so was Will. She needed to end things with Jason as soon as possible. Just because she couldn’t be with Will physically didn’t mean she couldn’t be with him. They just had to be careful.
This time when they entered, Jane was awake. Sophie could immediately tell how much effort Jane was putting into being conscious, and she swallowed at the sight. However, she pushed all her worries away. This was about Jane, and Sophie needed to be strong for her friend.
“Jane!” Sophie exclaimed, walking into the room. Only Professor Depogare, sitting in a chair at Jane’s side, was present. “It’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Okay is a relative word,” Depogare muttered, his accent stronger when his voice wasn’t quite discernable.
Jane rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him,” she told them. “He’s used to living in solitude, so he doesn’t like that my family has practically been rooming with me here. I was finally able to convince them to go back to the hotel and get a few hours of sleep. So how are you? How was Christmas?” She glanced over at Will and shared a smile with him. “Thanks for coming, Will.”
“Anything for you, kid,” Will told her, a small smile on his face. “You know you’re one of my favorites.”
“So what happened?” Sophie asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. If Depogare weren’t here, she would have leaned on Will, knowing she could trust Jane with what had happened between them. “Jane, are you okay?”
“Clearly, she’s fine,” Depogare said. “She’s simply confined to a bed.”
“No need to be snippy,” Jane scolded, and waved a dismissive hand. “Ignore him. But he’s right. I’m okay. I just need to recover, and I’ll be back to normal. I already have a doctor’s note to get out of soccer the first week we’re back, which I’m not happy about, but I understand how important it is to focus on recovery. I don’t want to push myself too hard and then not be able to play at all this year. It’s our last year.”
“My first and last,” Sophie murmured, shaking her head. “How crazy.”
“Right?”
“Jane, from what Ethan told me, you should be dead,” Will said, standing at the foot of her bed, his eyes focused on her. He was thoughtful, intent. “How is it that you’re as okay as you are?”
Depogare abruptly stood and headed over to the door to the spare bedroom. After shutting it, he returned to his seat. Jane waited until he resumed his position before turning back at Will and answering.
“I’m not quite sure,” she said in a voice just above a whisper. “When Depogare found me, he took me to Kessler. Apparently, he healed me.”
Will furrowed his brow, his arms crossed over his chest. Today, he wore blue plaid, and while Sophie missed the wife beater, she liked the way it looked on him. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Healed? Like, with medicine? With surgery?”
Jane looked to De
pogare for an answer, and subsequently, so did Sophie and Will.
“I can’t even explain it,” the professor said. Sophie was surprised he told them anything at all. She was almost certain he was going to come up with an excuse why they shouldn’t know. Perhaps she was wrong about him. “All I know is what I saw. And what I saw was Kessler placing his hands on Jane’s back.”
“That’s it?” Sophie asked. “You just saw him place his hands on her back? Nothing else?”
“I was a little distracted with the fact that one of my students was bloody and unconscious and close to death, Miss Harper,” Depogare all but snarled. Will shot him a pointed look, but he ignored it. “Forgive me, I wasn’t able to take notes.”
“But what did you see?” Sophie returned. “What happened while he put his hands on her back?”
Depogare shrugged his shoulders, and somehow the gesture came off as elegant. “I couldn’t say,” he murmured. “They kicked me out of the room because I was making too much commotion.”
Sophie and Will exchanged a skeptical look. It was hard for them to believe that someone as calm and as stoic as Daryl Depogare would make something resembling commotion at all. However, they didn’t disagree, and turned back to Jane and Depogare.
“So, what’d the good doctor say?” Will asked. “He healed her using his hands. What then?”
“He told me if she made it through the next seventy-two hours without going into shock, the chances of Jane’s survival increased dramatically,” Depogare explained. “And she did. If she made it past that point, she needed two weeks confined to a bed. After the first week, she would start physical therapy and walking again. Her first month back will be regulated here, but by early February, she should be able to attend class and even participate in sports.”
“I’m trying to return the third week of January,” Jane told them. “Soccer ends in February, and with the way we’re playing, I seriously think we have a chance to take the Cup.”
“Yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Depogare told her.
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