Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls #4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

one nurse after another about her symptoms, before a physician comes in and asks the same damn questions all over again. Do these people ever actually talk to each other? All I can do is sit here while she grips my hand, and try not to pummel everyone I see. Finally they do an ultrasound, confirm an inflamed appendix, and say the inevitable word: surgery.
    Upon hearing this, Sam’s eyes go wide and she grips my hand tighter, but she doesn’t complain. I’m actually proud of what a trooper she’s being. Watching her in this much pain is making my stomach hurt. I can only imagine what she’s going through.
    They finally give her a couple IVs, one for fluids and one for her fever, and eventually come to wheel her away. I walk with her down the hallway as far as they’ll let me go. Before they take her through a wide, automatic door with a big “Restricted” sign on it, I give her hand one last squeeze and plant a kiss on her hot, damp forehead.
    She doesn’t say a word, but our eyes lock and I see the fear in her eyes. My heart clenches in sympathy. “You’ll be all right, sweetheart,” I say.
    Her big blue eyes are soaking in my every word. “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    Those words are the first thing I think of when, an hour later, the physician comes into the waiting room wearing an expression that makes my blood turn to ice.
     

Chapter 3
     
Jack
     
    The girls have a running joke that I rather enjoy. They like to tease one another and argue about which one of them is my favorite.
    I’ve never said, of course.
    I love all these girls like crazy. They’re fun to tease and mess around with and give some loving to, but in a big brother way. They’re fun to talk to and hang out with. I’m not sure how we got to be the way we are together. I don’t know that any of us give it any thought. It’s just how it is. Being a guy, I’m not blind to the fact that they’re all gorgeous as fuck. I’ve had people ask me why I’ve never been with any of them, or call me a liar when I say I haven’t. I don’t know what to say to that. Yeah, they’re beautiful, each in her own way. They’re also amazing people and they occupy a special place in my heart.
    But I have to admit, Sam is different.
    It’s never quite felt right to describe my feelings for her as “sisterly.” It isn’t that I don’t feel protective of her, I do. But I don’t feel sisterly about her either. The truth is, she’s my best friend. More than the guys I hang with, even more than the other Firework Girls.
    I love them all, but Sam’s in her own category.
    Maybe that’s why, when the doctor explains that Sam’s appendix got so inflamed it had been slowly leaking toxins into her body for some time and she’s now “in danger,” something big and deep and wild inside me starts to panic.
    It’s flailing around inside my chest but I’m standing stock still. I nod automatically as he grimly talks about the difficulty of detecting this kind of leak before surgery and discusses aggressive antibiotic treatments to deal with her “complications.”
    No, no, no, no, please God, no.
    I’m strangely noticing details like the little chip in the top corner of his wire-rimmed glasses, and the wispy hair covering his receding hairline, and no, no, no.
    When he says, “40% chance” my brain shuts down.
    The wild thing inside me gets still and dark and cold and slides down my body and into the floor.
    He ends by giving me that clinical sympathetic expression they probably teach in medical school. Seconds later I’m left in an empty surgery waiting room, watching his white coat disappear through the automatic door, and listening to my heart thump, thump, thumping in my ears.
     

     
    By the time they tell us we can go in to see her, it’s just after six o’clock the next morning and Isabella and Chloe are here as well. Ashley’s in transit—she and Erik are flying back from Chicago today—so we’re keeping her apprised of things via