Imani
I clutched my stomach with one hand and held Jackson’s hand with the other. My grip lacked firmness, but Jackson more than made up for it. Despite his crushing grip, his hold was comforting and gave me strength with every passing second.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered. His voice came out low and pleading and it made my rapidly beating heart tinge with sadness because I didn’t know how to help him.
“I’m cold,” I whispered. He pressed the back of his hand against my forehead and frowned.
“You’re burning up.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“I’ll get you some more blankets,” he said, finally leaving my side.
I closed my eyes and breathed steadily, praying to the Moon Goddess that relief wasn’t far off. Dr. Hemsworth had given me the shot, and it seemed to work almost immediately.
